


Neville Longbottom: The Philosopher's Stone

by Ayekrusher0901



Series: Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Lived [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auror James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, F/M, Hermione Granger Bashing, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Severus Snape Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25533346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayekrusher0901/pseuds/Ayekrusher0901
Summary: Neville Longbottom has only known from his grandmother that his parents were great people, who fought to let him live from.Now, his letter has arrived. An exciting adventure awaits. His choices will define the first steps into Hogwarts, and they just might help him survive.[Also known as: The Wizarding World Rewrite series, where one choice can change all.]
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter, Penny Haywood/Player Character
Series: Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Lived [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850107
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	1. Attack on the 'Chosen One'

**Author's Note:**

> When I got into writing, Harry Potter had been among the series that had grown on me. Rowling, though... sufficient to say, she's further away from impressing me. And since the fandom has strayed away from their 'goddess', thought it'll be fun to see if I could try to become 'Lucifer's associate'; hence the Hermione Bashing, since she's her Author Avatar. I have no quarrel with Emma Watson nor Noma Dumezweni, who both have made their portrayals of Hermione memorable. 
> 
> This fanon rewrite featuring Neville Longbottom as The-Boy-Who-Lived will be written in a more mature tone. Tags will be edited and/or changed as the story develops. There will be dialogue taken directly from the books and/or films, as I will be sticking towards the canon story except for obvious deviations; I do not own The Wizarding World, it is the property of Warner Bros Pictures.
> 
> Reviews are greatly appreciated, and hope you enjoy!

It's the height of the First Wizarding War. The conflict that tore Britain apart - at least the magical side. The reign of the most powerful dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, who had huge numbers at his command - not just his Death Eaters, a covert and violent group of dark wizards and dark witches who served him and brought terror to both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, but all manner of Dark creatures, such as giants who could wreak havoc across cities, werewolves who brought terror through the fear of infection, and dementors who could drain your soul - was almost unopposed.

Then, on a cold, wet night in 1980, during a job interview that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Britain's Wizarding School Hogwarts was conducting in the Hog's Head Pub, Sybill Trelawney, the divination hopeful, went into a trance and made the prophecy that changed everything.

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'

Part of this prophecy was reported to Lord Voldemort, and it was soon decided that it could mean either one of two. One was the expecting child who would be born to the Longbottom family, the other from the Potters.

Both families had the parents fight against the Dark Lord, but as to who, it was not yet to be known at the time. Both had gone into hiding, despite initial protests.

But the victims were different.

* * *

"Did you hear that?"

"Frank, it's him! Take Neville and go! I'll hold him off!" Alice Longbottom shouted, pulling out her wand and fired out a smokescreen in an attempt to buy time.

After one last look at the woman he loved who was likely fighting her last fight, Frank Longbottom began running, rushing up to the crib where his son lay. As he picked him up, the the sounds of spells flying were suddenly replaced by a loud thud, and he stopped, mentally cursing the fact that they had made such a broad space be part of the Fidelius Charm.

There was simply not enough time nor room for them to Disapparate to safety. 

"Step aside. I hate to needlessly spill such pure blood." He heard Voldemort hiss as he came up the stairs. "All I need is the boy."

"Never!!" He cried out, firing a hex as the door opened. He couldn't help but smirk as the Dark Lord paused momentarily to touch his now bleeding cheek. "You're not taking my son as well."

There was a green light, and the only living person remaining was the crying child.

* * *

"He looks so much like you, Prongs. It's almost creepy."

James chuckled as Sirius transformed back into a human, panting slightly as he looked down at the playing infant on the couch, happily chewing on his toys. His son, Harry James Potter, was indeed almost the splitting image of him, though with one major difference. He had his mother's green eyes.

"You may think this is funny now, Harry, but trust me when I say you'll won't find this amusing later." Lily lifted up the giggling boy out of Sirius' hair and tried to smooth it out.

"It won't work, Lils. It's in the Potter blood. That's why your pops invented Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, am I right?" Sirius joked, earning a jab in the ribs from James. Lily could only sigh in exasperation and was ready to respond when something hit the door.

James was instantly on his feet, silently handed Harry over to Lily and drew out his wand, motioning for Lily to go upstairs with a confused Harry while Sirius readied himself for a fight.

After the Longbottoms' demise, they had moved to Godric's Hollow and only a hand selected few were allowed to visit - the Death Eaters were still at large, after all. Sirius waited apprehensively, his wand in one hand while another grabbed onto the coatstaff in case he needed a distraction. He would curse anyone that as much as cast a shadow over his godson.

James slowly made his way to the door before he cast Homenum Revelio. Four people were outside his door, but as to whom they are he could not tell. Not that it mattered, when the door was blasted off its hinges and into James, before Sirius was disarmed and went flying across the hallway.

"Well, well, well..." A woman with thick, shining dark hair, long eyelashes and heavily hooded eyes looked down at him, while a pale young man with bark-coloured hair and freckles came in after her, flanked by two tall, thickset man with very dark hair. "If it isn't dear Sirius."

"Bella." Sirius snarled, looking at his assailant. "Fancy seeing you in my godson's house."

"Likewise, Bartemius." James gritted his teeth as Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Jr, son of Minister of Magic candidate, grinned at them, his tongue flickering like a hissing snake. "Don't think your father would approve."

Bellatrix Lestrange simply gave a shrill laugh as her husband and brother-in-law conjured ropes to bind them. "Where. Is. The Dark Lord?"

"Why the hell would we know?" Sirius spat in his cousin's face. "And even if we did, we certainly wouldn't tell you, _Death Eater_."

"Maybe this will loosen your tongue." Rodolphus snarled before the two collapsed to the floor, convulsing with pain. The questions were repeated, as were the responses, until Barty broke the cycle with a shout.

"No!" He pointed as a silvery ghostly doe rushed pass them, before Bellatrix took a Stunning Spell to the chest as Lily charged in, anger lfaring in her eyes as she delivered a simultaneous disarming spell that sent the other Lestranges into the wall.

"Crucio!" Barty roared, sending Lily falling into a seizing mess as cracks could be heard echoing outside. "We have to go! They've called for backup!"

* * *

Dumbledore sat uneasily as he sat in the courtroom, looking warily around the murmuring crowd who had come to watch the trial. More specifically, the trial of the convicted death eaters who had been caught. His mind shuddered when he recalled arriving at Godric' Hollow. The Potter's last house had been set aflame with fiendfyre, and it had been another week before they were rescued.

"Alastor. How are they?" He asked the war-torn Auror, who had personally led the hunt and caught the Lestranges.

"The Healer's are optimistic about Black n' Potter." Alastor grunted as he sat down. "But Potter's wife...they say that her extended exposure to the Cruciatus Curse combined with her miscarriage left her barren. They've only got their son left."

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed with sympathy. "My greatest condolences to them, I dread the day we'd have to tell them."

"I say we throw the Lestranges to the Dementors." He paused upon looking at Dumbledore's look of discomfort. "Ah, I knew I forgot something...you don't like the Dementors, do you, Albus?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Dumbledore replied calmly. "I have voiced my displeasure over the Ministry's alliance with such creatures."

"But for filth like this..." Moody said softly, looking over Dumbledore's shoulder to see a ragged man rise from inside the interrogation cage in the center of the room. "Don't you think he deserves it? Took me a year to hunt him down, and now he's cut a deal with save his own skin."

"Igor Karkaroff, you have been brought out of Azkaban at your own request to present evidence to this council." Bartemius Crouch Sr. began, staring at the lean man. "Should your testimony prove consequential, the council may be prepared to order your release. Until then, you remain, in the eyes of the ministry, a convicted Death Eater. Do you accept these terms?"

"I do, sir."

"And what do you wish to present?"

The former Death Eater looked up with desperate eyes. "I have names, sir." He spoke while Crouch looked on uninterestedly. "There was a Rosier. Evan Rosier."

Crouch looked to his assistant who handed over a piece of paper. "Rosier is dead, caught shortly after you were. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."

"Took my eye and half of my nose too." Alastor chuckled behind Dumbledore, scratching the remainder of his nose while his magical eye whizzed hazardously.

"If the defendant has no more names-"

"Wait! I have more!" Karkaroff shouted. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber - he specialised in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! And Rookwood! He was a spy!"

The last name gave some pause. "Augustus Rookwood? From the department of Mysteries?"

"Yes, yes, the same!" Karkaroff said eagerly, knowing he had struck gold. "He passed information to You-Know-Who from inside the Ministry itself!"

Bartemius Crouch Sr looked satisfied for moment. "But Travers and Mulciber we have. Very well, Council will deliberate. In the the meantime you will be returned to Azkaban."

"NO!" The desperation could be heard. "Wait, wait! Please! I have more! But one Snape! Severus Snape!"

"The Council is very much aware that I have given evidence on this matter." Dumbledore had rose to his feet. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater, and prior to Lord Voldemort's downfall turned spy for us at great personal risk." He raised his voice over Karkaroff's frantic shouting. "He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

"Silence!" Crouch repeatedly slammed his gavel to regain order. "Unless the witness possess any genuine name if consequence, this session is now concluded!"

"Oh no, no, no, no..." Karkaroff was breathing heavily, as if to present his trump card. "I know one more. I know for a fact that this person took part in the kidnapping and, by means of the Cruciatus Curse, torture, of the Auror Sirius Black, and his friends the Potters!"

"The name! Give me the wretched name!"

"BARTY CROUCH...!" He paused to savour the looks of shock over the watching crowd, and Dumbledore looked over to both the judge and the son, the latter who had gotten out of his seat. "...Junior."

There was a moment of stunned silence, which the younger Barty tried to take advantage and make a run for it. Unfortunately for him, Moody was also in the room, and the auror made short work at foiling his escape.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" Barty roared as he was being restrained, flicking his tongue like a snake as he was forced in front of the elder, shellshocked Crouch. "Hello, father."

"You are no son of mine."

* * *

Weeks later, in a little Muggle town a fair distance from the Potter's old home in Godric's Hollow, Albus Dumbledore stood next to a rather severe-looking woman who wore square glasses, an emerald green cloak, and had her long black hair pulled up into a tight bun.

"It's-it's true ?" She faltered. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all the things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Neville survive?"

"We can only guess." Dumbledore surmised. "We may never know."

McGonagall dabbed her eyes beneath her spectacles with a lace handkerchief and Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took out a very odd watch with moving planets instead of numbers, and twelve hands. "Hagrid's late." Dumbledore commented. "I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here?"

"Yes," McGonagall affirmed. "Although what he did not tell me was why on earth Augusta decided to move all the way out here so suddenly." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah yes. Well upon our discussion, Neville and his grandmother will be taking some time... away from the Wizarding World."

"Away from the Wizarding World?" McGonagall gaped, "This boy is going to be famous, a legend! There will be books written about him, every child in our world will know his name! And for that you're going to just - just banish the family from Wizarding society?? You expect her to just uproot their whole lives? To just leave behind friends and family?"

"Now, now, banish is a strong word. I merely suggested that it would be better for the boy. Think about it Minerva, It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk? For something he won't even remember? Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it? We all must make sacrifices for the greater good, and she is more than willing to do her part. He is her grandson after all, and she wants what's best for him. Not to mention she is his last living relative, I’m afraid. The charm of his parent’s protection should hold as long as she keeps him safe."

"Yes – yes, you're right, of course." McGonagall conceded, "Well, how is the boy getting here, Albus?" She asked, eying his cloak suddenly as though he might be hiding Neville underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him." Dumbledore answered.

"You think it would be - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life." Dumbledore declared solemnly.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place." McGonagall muttered grudgingly, "But you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound broke the silence around them as a large motorbike rode through the air and then landed down into the street.

"Hagrid." Dumbledore greeted. "At last. And where did you get that motor - Remus?"

"Good evening, Professors." He replied as he hopped off the sidecar. "Lent Sirius' bike to help. Plus I do wanna see where they've moved."

"I trust that no problems were there?"

"Just that Prongslet was sad when he had to say goodbye." Remus shrugged while Hagrid handed over the sleeping bundle. "Fell asleep as we flew over Wiltshire."

The two Professors looked over at the boy; under a thin tuft of hair that was a mix of brown and blond, was the lightning shaped scar.

"Is that where...?" McGonagall whispered.

"Yes." Dumbledore said sadly. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't. It's a cursed scar - one beyond my expertise. And the prophecy has complicated things. I'm still looking into that matter in that regard." Dumbledore shook his head as he rung the doorbell. "Well, best we go and knock on the door."

"Oh." The recipient gasped. She was tall, thin and bony - yet somehow held a sense of formidability. "I was expecting my grandson in the morning."

"Apologies for waking you, Augusta. But he _is_ your grandson - it would be rude to keep him away from you so long."

"At least you didn't just leave him on the doorstep." She said as she took the sleeping grandson. "Or else I'd have sent you the worst howler in your life."

"Fair enough." He concluded, while Hagrid and Remus headed back to the motorbike as McGonagall turned into her animagi forms and vanished into the night.

"Good luck, Neville," Dumbledore murmured, then he turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone, leaving the Longbottoms alone in the silence of the night. As Augusta collected her wits and shut the door with her grandson in her arms, all over the country people who met in secret were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Neville Longbottom - the boy who lived!" 


	2. Childhood of Longbottom

Neville grew up as an only child, never truly knowing any of the rest of his family or anyone else from the Wizarding World. He would occasionally see witches and wizards out in the world, but he was never allowed to go anywhere without his gran, and she always hurried him away from them whenever they tried to speak to him without permission. Neville didn't understand why, his gran always spoke so fondly of the wizarding world, and told him stories about Hogwarts and that he would one day get to go there, so he didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to talk to other witches and wizards.

The first time Neville had ever met anyone from his family other than his grand uncle Algie was when they attended a funeral for his Gran's sister-in-law Enid, who had died from contracting Dragon Pox, a magical illness caused by contact with dragon's waste. 

Neville was terrified when Algie described what happened, but his Gran berated her brother before she sat down to tell Neville that since this was a wizarding illness, they had little-to-no chance of getting it while living in the muggle world. Although the strangest thing at the funerals was that all the adults there looked at him strangely and whispered as he passed by. They all quickly stopped after a stern look from his Gran, but that didn't stop Neville from wondering why.

Augusta was a strict woman who loved to reminisce on the past and speak about greatness. She told him how great his parents were, how they had died fighting evil for him. She said that because they were so great that she was certain that he would be great as well. However, she also had times of doubt of Neville becoming a Squib, having worried that Neville had lost all his magic from destroying You-Know-Who. But her brother Algie often tried to dispel her doubts, saying that he himself was a late bloomer, and tried many attempts to 'force some magic' out of his grand-nephew to shut her up. 

He eventually succeeded - while over for tea one time when Neville was eight, Algie hung him out of an upstairs window by his ankles, and accidentally dropped him when he was offered tea. Instead of getting hurt, Neville bounced safely down the garden and out into the road, thereby proving that he wasn't a Squib. They were all very happy and Augusta was crying before hexing Algie for risking her grandson's life. "He could had died!" 

Neville looked up to his grand-uncle more than his Gran; he was a jovial, good natured and very patient man, not to mention he had a love for Herbology, and often allowed Neville to help out in his garden. But then came one day, when he came across an injured snake that was being toyed with their family's barn owl.

It must be a magical snake, Neville thought to himself as the snake in his hands thanked him for saving him from 'that monster'. However, when Neville told his Gran that he had found a magical talking snake, she told him there was no such thing and that she couldn't hear it speaking. 

"But I can hear it talking." Neville said. "Like right now it's saying that it wants to go back outside, but it doesn't want to be attacked by our owl again." Neville turned to the snake and said. _"It's okay, I'll bring you to the park, he wouldn't be able to find you there."_

Augusta's eyes widened in shock, for what she heard from his grandson's mouth were not words but snake-like hisses. She then looked at her young grandson very seriously and asked him to repeat what he said to the snake. Confused, he did, and after that she sent him to his room.

The next day, he came down from his bedroom to see a benign-looking, bright-eyed old man in the living room, talking to his Gran who seemed to had been crying and hadn't slept. "...by your love for your grandson. You must see him as he is, Augusta, not who you think he ought to be. By the way Neville, it's a delight to meet you, my boy." The man turned around, much to Neville's shock. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Your grandmother has been consulting me over some interesting discoveries."

"Neville! You're up earlier than usual." Even she couldn't hide her surprise.

"I couldn't sleep, Gran." He said apologetically. Dumbledore cast a knowing look before Augusta stood and hugged her grandson. Neville was stunned, his gran had never hugged him before. It was either praise or criticism, never physical interaction.

"Well, I believe that I'll be on my way then. Good day to you both, and Neville," There was a twinkle in his eye. "I hope to see you soon." 

He took a handful of powder out from one of his many pockets, and threw it into the fire. It combusted into a brilliant green flame that Dumbledore stepped into and vanished upon it dying.

"Neville." Augusta spoke soberly, as she sat him down. "I had hoped to tell you later when your Hogwarts letter arrived, but after a discussion with Professor Dumbledore, I believe it is time."

"Time? For what?"

"The truth, Neville." She looked at him sternly. "Have you ever wondered why we live here in the muggle world? Why we rarely see our families? Why I don't let you go anywhere on your own? And why you can talk with snakes?" Neville nodded frantically as he sat down, gripping the edge of his seat.

"It's a long story Neville, but it all began ten years ago, before you were even born..."

And so Neville sat in stunned silence as Augusta told him the full story of his own life, a story he had only overheard snippets before. The dark wizard who had killed his parents was the most powerful and feared wizard in history, whose name she refused to speak until he was older. This wizard had wanted to kill him when he was a baby due to a prophecy that foretold his demise, and his parents had gone into hiding to keep him safe. However, they were eventually found and they died protecting him.

"The day when your parents died, not only did you survive the Killing Curse, but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was destroyed. This is why your I have never had any doubt that you will be a great wizard. People are glad you destroyed him, and they have called you 'The Boy Who Lived', something you will be called often."

"Neville, when you brought in the snake yesterday, you may not realize it, but you were the only one who could understand it. The ability to talk to snakes is called parseltongue, and because you can speak this you are called a parselmouth. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a parselmouth, and it was why I had sent you to your room last night."

Neville couldn't find the words to respond, even though a million questions were racing through his mind, and yet, in a way it did explain everything. This explained why he couldn't go anywhere without his grandparents, why everyone at the funerals had whispered and pointed at him. They knew his story, and treated him like a legend.

"Am I a dark wizard?" Neville asked, his voice trembling. "Am I...?" 

"No Neville, I know you are not a dark wizard, and you are most certainly not him. But many people who don't know you well will think you are. There will be those who want you dead, there will be those who will treat you like a pawn on the chessboard, and there will be those who will give their life for you. This is why we live in the Muggle World Neville, to keep you safe from the Wizarding World until you are ready, so you could have a childhood as normal as could be."

"Promise me, Neville, you will not go flaunting your fame, that you will do the Longbottom family name proud." She looked at him in the eye. "Promise me."

"I promise, Gran." 

And he meant it. 


	3. Diagon Alley Encounters

After that day, Augusta had begun to educate Neville more on the magical world, such as the wizarding families and the subjects. As the days flew by, his letter arrived, and the two set off to Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies. 

True to her warning, there were some people who came up to him to thank him, though Augusta shooed them away. The first place they went was Ollivanders. Admittedly, Augusta had some...reservations about the wand Neville would be using, but then she remembered her talk with Dumbledore, and so decided to swallow her pride.

When the Longbottoms strolled into the tiny shop, Neville first saw the walls lined to the ceiling with long thin boxes. The very air in the shop unnerved him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Standing at the counter was an old man with wide, pale eyes, shining like moons through the gloom of the shop, who was assisting a girl to choose her first wand. 

The girl in line in front of Neville kept asking Mr Ollivander questions about wands and how they worked. How do they choose who they want? If so, were they sentient? Would a wand feel pain if it was broken, and could it be repaired? Neville looked at his gran who seemed to find the girl irritating, as did the girl when Ollivander only responded with vague statements that didn't seem to make sense. Finally, the girl walked out of the shop with her family before Mr Ollivander turned on Neville.

"Ah yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Neville Longbottom." Neville gulped nervously as he tried not to look terrified. "You look very much like your parents. It seems only yesterday your mother was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve and a half inches long, supple, made of ebony and with phoenix feather. Very good for dueling." Neville took a step back as the man drew even closer. His Gran attempted to get his attention, but he paid her none as he continued.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured an pear wand. Eleven and one quarter inches, swishy, made with dragon heartstring. A little rigid - and it seems you have brought it back into my shop." He turned on his heel to face Augusta.

"Yes." She declared, walking up to him with a long wooden box in her hands, which she opened to reveal a long and very shiny wand. "I want him to have it."

"And why may that be?" Ollivander raised an eyebrow.

"This belonged to his father!" Augusta protested against the wandmaker's subtle disagreement. "This was my son's wand, and he used it magnificently. Why, the sort of magic he could produce with it was indescribable! As you must know, Neville is already a great wizard, and is only destined to become even more so, he should have this wand so he could do what his father could, not to mention the sentimental value!" 

"Your wand was ash, nine inches, unyielding. A wood that is best suited to those who are not lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes, it seems that it's still quite suited to you, even after all these years." Mr Ollivander chuckled, plucking the wand from its box. "But as we wandmakers say, 'The wand chooses the wizard.' However great a wand this is, it has not chosen Neville. You will never get such good results with another's wand, just as no two wands are the same. It does appear to have a fondness for your grandson - likely due to its loyalty to your son - but it most certainly would not work for Neville as he is now. Perhaps one day - but today is not that day."

Augusta faltered for a moment, before she decided to forget everything she said and declared that Neville's new wand would make him greater than his father, so he may live up to his legacy. Ollivander pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. He measured Neville from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and around his head. While measuring around his head, Ollivander touched the lightning-shaped scar on Neville's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm terribly sorry to say I sold the wand that did it." He said softly, sending a shiver down Neville's spine. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Very powerful wand, and in the wrong hands... Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..." He shook his head, before he headed back inside the store and picked out a wand. "Right then, try this one. Laurel and Dragon Heartstring, eight inches, reasonably springy."

It took quite a few tries and even more messes, and the wands that had not chosen him had begun to form a small pile. Augusta was beginning to wonder out loud if it was because her grandson was too great, while the more wands Ollivander pulled out, the happier he become. 

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect wand for you - I wonder - it's here somewhere - holly and phoenix Feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Neville gave this one a hesitant wave, before golden flames burst out and ignited the boxes behind, though his gran quickly raised her own and extinguished the fire before it could spread.

"And I was so sure..." This setback actually seemed to disappoint the wandmaker, before he had a spark of inspiration, as he headed back to the back of the shop, reemerging with a new box. 

"Perhaps, this is the one. Cherry and unicorn hair, thirteen inches, fairly flexible." He said, and Neville looked at his Gran before she urged him to pick it up. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, before raising it above his head and brought it down, sending out a stream of pink light and falling pink petals which disappeared as they fell through the dusty air.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good! This is a very unique wand Mr Longbottom, and I am certain that we can expect great things from you...just as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but nonetheless great."

* * *

Ollivanders, fortunately, had been the most extraordinary part of this trip. And after picking up his schoolbooks and cauldrons and the sort, there was one last thing left to be done.

"Welcome, Miss Longbottom." Madam Malkin bowed as they entered. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

She directed him to the back of the shop, where a small boy with untidy dark brown hair was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

"Hello," The boy turned at him as Madam Malkin took Neville's measurements. "Hogwarts, too?" 

"Yeah. Where's your parents?"

"My mum's out to buy my potion supplies, my Dad's working at the ministry - hopefully I could drag him later to look at the brooms. By the way, have you got your own broom?"

"No, my gran's never let me own a broomstick. Says it's too dangerous than the floo."

"Rubbish! Dad says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House." The boy looked appalled. "Speaking of houses, which house do you think you'll be in?"

"Maybe Hufflepuff - and you?"

"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Just like my dad. Well, better Hufflepuff than Slytherin anyway. There's not one who wasn't bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

"Harry." A beautiful woman with thin, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and almond-shaped, bright green eyes came over, walking with a limp in her step and looking rather displeased. "How many times have I told you? Not everyone in Slytherin is bad. Look at Uncle Severus, for example." 

"You mean Snivel-" The moment the word nearly left his lips, the woman's eyes flashed and her face turned red, while Harry paled, realising his grave error. "Uh..."

" _Right._ " She crossed her arms, and Neville felt pity for Harry. He certainly knew what that look was about; his Gran did it whenever he did something wrong. "I'm going to have a word with your dad. Come on."

Neville looked on as Harry was pulled away by who he presumed to be his mother, looking incredibly desperate. In fact, Neville thought he had seen a black fluid-like smoke sizzle out from Harry's sleeves, but shrugged it off. "Odd."


	4. Journey to Hogwarts

Neville stood on Platform 9 3/4 and prepared goodbye to his grandmother, all the while trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn't excited, maybe it was because he was worried about how other people would be treating him; yet he wasn't scared either, perhaps it was the fact that what his Gran had told him about You-Know-Who that had kept lingering in his mind.

Regardless of how he felt about it, the day was here. He could hardly believe it. He supposed that was the root of the feeling that he wasn't feeling anything. Simple disbelief.

"And Neville." His grandmother was saying as they passed through the barrier. "I want you to make lots of friends and be busy, so I will not ask you to owl me weekly, but I'll be owling you at least once a month and expecting replies. I hope I don't need to remind you about what we discussed about your behavior at Hogwarts." She warned sternly.

"You just did, Gran."

There was a tense feeling in the air as the two looked at each other, not backing down, before a smile, a small one but a smile nevertheless, curved the shape of Augusta's lips. Her pride shined through for a moment before it was tuned out, aware that people were watching. 

"Tell Professor McGonagall that Augusta says hello." She took his face in her hands and gave him a once-over before nodding approvingly. and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. For all the people knew, they had just said their affectionate goodbyes to each other before parting.

A sudden shrill sounded all across the platform, ushering kids onto the train and parents and relatives saying their last goodbyes. Augusta stepped back from the train and gave a last wave to Neville as he climbed into the carriage, moments before the train started moving, slowly then picking up speed. A pang of anxiety rippled through her before she squashed it down. As the train disappeared, Augusta took one final look before she apparated away.

* * *

"Need a hand?" He turned to see a older girl whose blond hair had covered her left eye, while the other was dabbled in dark eyeshadow. He muttered his gratitude as she helped him put away his trunk.

"Hey, your forehead..." He froze, as her hand brushed over his hair. "Whoa. Aren't you him?"

"Who?"

"Neville Longbottom. Guess I shouldn't keep wasting your time." She gawked before turning back, presumably to her compartment. Neville decided to just put it behind and climbed into a seat. Sure enough, it wasn't too long when the compartment door opened again, revealing a boy with messy hair.

"Excuse me, You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" The boy asked with a nervous chuckle. "I don't want to seem intruding, but everywhere else is full."

"Not at all." Neville replied. "Say, have we met before? You look familiar..."

"Uh, I think so...?" The boy's brow narrowed before it lit up in recognition. "Oh, right! You were getting your robes next to me at Madam Malkin's! Well, at least we can properly be acquaintances. Harry Potter, at your service."

"I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom." Harry's eyes lit up in awe. "And uh..."

"No, it's alright. I'm not going to ask you about what happened." Neville's eyes widened. "My mum and dad and my godfather were attacked by Death Eaters sometime after yours. I grew up with my...erm...relatives while they recovered."

"My Gran talked about them a lot. Said that they were troublemakers with a noble cause." Neville silently overjoyed over the prospect of meeting someone who sympathized with his history. "About your relatives...how are they?"

"My family doesn't talk about them much. They're muggles and they hate magic." Harry's hands subconsciously went to his back as he talked. "I haven't seen them since I was seven."

"The only other relative I grew up with apart from my gran is my grand uncle Algie. I get what you're feeling." Neville agreed, as the witch trolley came along. "Want something? My treat."

A large purchase of candy later, Neville found himself swapping stories with Harry, with Harry speaking of a time when his dad and his 'Uncle Padfoot' were escaping from a pair of muggle policemen and three Death Eaters when the compartment door slid open. Neville looked up to see the inquisitive girl from Ollivanders; she had bushy brown hair, brownish skin that looked to be tanned, brown eyes, large front teeth, was already wearing her Hogwarts robes and spoke in a bossy tone. "Has anyone seen a rat? A boy called Ron's lost his." 

"Nope. Have you tried asking one of the prefects to do a Summoning Charm? Might work."

He soon regretted his suggestion, as the bossy girl had embarked on a lecture about the restrictions of magic. After roughly five minutes, Harry lifted his hand, indicating that he, too, had something to say: “Congratulations for reading a book, Miss...?”

“Granger, Hermione Jane Granger! Well, the laws of 1843 clearly dictate…”

“Contrary to whatever outdated book you picked up,” Harry interrupted her. “You _can_ use magic on the train. It’s not forbidden since the school year has already started and the Hogwarts express technically serves as an expansion of the school territory, not that that's the reason why.”

Granger looked ready to kill. “What is your name?”

"Err..." Neville looked back at Harry; apparently he wasn't the only one taken aback by the mumbling motor mouth of this girl nor had learnt all his course books by heart. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Holy cricket - are you really?" She before deciding to barge in, closing the distance as she examined him like a prize animal, trying to find his scar.. "Nobody's in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course; I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learnt all our course books by heart, of course, so I think I have a pretty solid basis for all the theory. And I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books for background reading - is there something funny?"

"Sorry..." There was a mischievous smile on Harry's face. "Just that, you said you know all about him?"

"Why, yes. He's in Modern Magical History and - I have to ask, why are you laughing?"

"Just that you seem to know everything about my friend here." Neville's face lit up while a scowl grew on Hermione's. "Surely you don't believe everything in books?"

"You're being terribly rude." She asked, her face getting red. "And who are you supposed to be."

"Harry. Harry Potter." Harry retorted, getting on his feet. "And you're one to talk - you barged into our compartment without asking."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to throw him out, before getting up."You too better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." 

"Mind your own business, will you?" Harry retorted, unimpressed with her bossiness. "I'll change when I want to get changed."

"I only said anything to keep you from getting in trouble," Hermione defended in a sniffy voice and left.

"Hope she's not going to be in my house, I can't stand her." Neville shook his head, unable to believe how rude some people are. Then the compartment doors opened again, and Harry looked as if he was ready to jinx someone.

"Is it true?" said a voice from the doorway. Neville looked up at the kid who had just entered their compartment and thought he recognized the white-blonde hair and pale, angular features, based on his grandmother's descriptions. "We heard Neville Longbottom's in this compartment. So it's you?"

"Are you a Malfoy?" asked Neville. He realized that he was making a lot of assumptions just based off the fact the kid in his compartment's doorway had white-blonde hair, but in his defense, he hadn't seen any other kids with the same hair color.

"It's good to be recognized. I am, in fact, Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy line. These are Crabbe and Goyle." The pale boy smirked, and Neville glanced at the thicker boys; standing either side like a pair of bodyguards. "You've been out of the Wizarding World for a while," Draco began in a very business-like manner, "So you wouldn't know, but my family has a lot of influence around here, and we have a way of getting things done, if you know what I mean. We could be of use to you." 

"And by that, you mean...?"

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, and you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." Draco gave him a knowing look, but Neville had a different idea. "I can help you."

"Piss off, Malfoy." Harry interrupted. "This is Neville - he can choose for himself."

"And you must be a Potter. My father told me that all of them are brats with messy black hair." Harry's face flushed red, and for the faintest moment Neville saw his eyes turn white completely.

"If I were you, Malfoy, I would be getting out of here." He said quietly, his body shaking and looking somewhat distorted.

"You're brasher than the mudblood we ran into-" Draco was knocked out of the compartment alongside his bodyguards by a powerful force, ripping off shreds of the door as the three were carried off like a wave of water. Neville turned to Harry, who had raised his hands upward.

"I'm - I'm sorry." Harry stammered. "Ple - please don't tell anyone-!"

"That. Was. Wicked!" 

* * *

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Harry heard a familiar voice calling out as he stepped off the train and onto the platform. He turned and caught sight of an overly large, hairy man, "Alright there, Harry?" Hagrid called out in a booming voice as he beamed at him over the sea of heads.

"Hagrid! How are you?" Harry asked as he approached Hagrid, whose face lit up as he saw him.

"You do know me! I was worried yer parents wouldn’t tell ye who I am!"

Harry grimaced but managed to still look happy. “They gave me a list of people at Hogwarts I could trust if I need something. Your name was near the top."

"Nice ter know. I'll be there in a minute." Hagrid smiled before looking back at the sea of heads. "C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The two made their way, slipping and stumbling, down a steep narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Neville thought there must be thick trees there. "That must be the forbidden forest." Harry whispered. "We're not supposed to go near there...though my dad said someone always does anyway."

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!" as students received their first glimpse of the enormous castle that was Hogwarts.

As Harry and his friends rounded the narrow path, it opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, with its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Neville and Harry all scrambled into a boat, followed by two others who introduced themselves as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, shouted. "Right then - forward!"

Neville and company sat in their boat admiring the view as they floated closer and closer to Hogwarts. They all ducked as the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached some kind of harbor which had a crystal roof, where they clambered out onto the rocks and pebbles. 

They walked through a passageway and up a set of stone steps before crowding in front of a large, oak door. "Everyone still here?" Hagrid swept his glance over quickly before heading up the steps and knocked on the door.


	5. House Sorting

The doors swung open, revealing a tall grey haired witch in emerald green robes. "Are these all the first years, Hagrid?"

"Yup, Professor McGonagall. Made sure o' it." Hagrid nodded, before turning to the small crowd and ushered them in.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." McGonagall said after they arrived in front of a large pair of doors. "In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seat, you will be sorted into your houses; they are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - each with its own noble history and producing outstanding alumni. Now, for as long as you stay here in Hogwarts, your house will be like your family; your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule breaking will lose them. At the end of the school year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house."

"The sorting ceremony shall begin momentarily in front of your peers and teachers. I suggest you all smartened up yourselves..." Her eyes lingered for a moment on a redhead's nose, who Neville assumed was one of the Weasleys, according to his Gran's descriptions, while Harry ruffled his hair to even more of a mess. "...while I make sure the rest of the school are ready. Form a line as you wait for my return."

"Do you know how they sort us?" Neville whispered to Harry as McGonagall vanished behind the doors.

"Heard from my dad that they read your mind to find out." Harry shrugged. "I dunno how, but it doesn't sound pleasant."

That did not raise Neville's confidence at all, while he could still hear Hermione muttering about all the spells she presumably learnt - even though she was quite far back in the line. 

Then she screamed, while a startled Neville caught sight of a transparent figure as white as pearls floating up from the floor in front of him. He turned around to see maybe a dozen more figures emerging from the walls, and amongst them was a little man with wickedly slanted, orange eyes, dressed in loud, outlandish clothes including a bell-covered hat and an orange bow tie arguing with the ghost of what appeared to be a Hogwarts student. "Forgive and forget, we ought to give him another chance-"

"Peeves, you know for a fact that I don't give a rat's tail about the Fat Friar's philosophy. The only reason why I'm even talking to you is 'cause the Baron's got me on a - what are you all doing here?" He suddenly turned to look at the first years. "New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose? Better hope you're in Slytherin, or else you're gonna expect a dungbomb or two."

"That's enough, Mr. Ashe." McGonagall scolded the ghost who blew a raspberry and floated through the walls to join the other ghosts. "Come along, you all." 

Burying his nerves, Neville took several deep breaths not to faint as he followed the others through the double doors into the Great Hall. They followed Professor McGonagall to the front. They came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Hundreds of faces stared back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

He heard Hermione whisper, “"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Neville glanced upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Even though he grew up with magic; it was a sight to behold.

The high table where all the teachers were seated also came into view. Sitting in the middle was Dumbledore, whose eyes were still twinkling. Sitting next to him was a grim looking man with greasy black hair on the left and a very short man who faintly resembled a goblin on the right. There were others, such as a woman who he guessed was the Herbology teacher judging from her attire, a man in a purple turban, Hagrid, a dark skinned woman, a woman in red robes, a rather stern looking teacher with hawk like eyes, and a man who had an arm and a leg replaced with prosthetics - and that's when he felt his forehead begin to ache.

"Neville? What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"When I call your name, you will step forward and sit on the stool." McGonagall's voice interrupted their conversation, and he looked back to see the deputy headmistress standing behind an old stool, with a long roll of parchment in one hand and a very old, pointed wizard's hat in the other. "I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted into your new houses." She took one look at her parchment in her hand. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A pink faced girl with pigtails stepped forward nervously, sitting on the stool as the hat was placed on her. Neville thought he was seeing things when he saw parts of the hat collapsing into some sort of face and its mouth was moving - before it startled him shouting 'HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan!"

'HUFFLEPUFF!"

The progress continued as the crowd of first years thinned. Some were quickly sorted, Draco barely touched the hat before it shouted 'SLYTHERIN!'; while a few took way too long; Neville thought it must had been over ten minutes for Hermione, who had a look of constipation on her red face before the hat reluctantly sorted her into 'Gryffindor', to her smug delight, Harry's displeasure and Neville's surprise: he fully expected her to be in Ravenclaw. Harry himself took almost half the time before the hat gave a more enthusiastic shout of the same house.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

This was it. The moment of truth. He could already hear everyone whispering his name, and saw a lot craning their necks to get a good look at him as the hat was put on his head. 'Interesting.' A loud voice echoed in his mind. 'Ah, yes... Difficult indeed. I can sense loyalty in you, oh, not to mention a need to prove yourself. You would do well in either Hufflepuff or even Slytherin...'

"Please, not Slytherin. Not Slytherin..."

'Not Slytherin, eh? But you could thrive in easily - Slytherin could help you achieve greatness never before seen! Are you sure? Well then. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!' 

This last was shouted to the rest of the Hall and immediately followed by a positively deafening cheer from the Gryffindors. Neville's stomach lurched, but he got up from the stool and started toward the table, only to realize he was still wearing the Sorting Hat and ran back to hand it to the next student amid laughter. 

Luckily, his mishap was quickly forgotten. Harry was patting the spot next to him excitedly. On the other side was a tall red headed boy wearing a Prefect badge before Gryffindor gained Finnegan, Thomas and Weasley, which confirmed the identity of the redheads.

"Now that we are all sorted." Dumbledore had gotten out of the High Table and stood in front of an owl-shaped podium. "I would like to make a few start-of-term notices to you all. Firstly, I would like to extend my gratitude towards Quirinus Quirrell for heroically agreeing to undertake the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts while we are delighted to have Professor Charity Burbage to fulfil his previous post of Muggle Studies." Dumbledore's gaze moved searchingly across the students. "I hope all students will extend Professor Quirrell that utmost courtesy and tolerance which is due his extraordinary service to you and this school, and that you will not pester us with any niggling complaints about him, unless you want to try doing his job."

Neville looked at the High Table. The man with the purple turban stood up nervously, followed by the stern looking woman. "Our caretaker, Mr. Filch has informed me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Alas, we all know that what should be, and what is, are two different things. Thank you for keeping this in mind." Neville looked back to see a very grumpy man with a even grumpier cat, neither looking pleased with the headmaster's sarcastic remark.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Any student that is in their second year or above interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch." Neville noticed more than a few glances towards the hawk eye woman.

"Finally, I feel the need to tell you all that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. It is guarded by an elaborate series of dangerous and potentially lethal traps, and you cannot possibly get past all of them, even if you are in seventh year. Now, dig in!"

And just like that, the Feast began. The dishes in front of them were now piled with food, much to Neville's surprise. His Gran had put him on a strict diet, so he never had the liberty of choosing his own meals. He was just getting a leg of lamb when he heard Malfoy scream followed by the sound of ghastly laughter.

Over at the Slytherin table, Neville could seen a gaunt ghost soaring through the table, with his robes glittering of silver blood fluttering behind him, while the Hogwarts student ghost was busy swiping food from unfortunate students. 

"Hello!" A ghostly head came up from the table. "Welcome to Gryffindor."

"Hello Sir Nicholas. How was your summer?" The Weasley prefect asked.

"DIsmal, once again. My request to join the headless hunt is once denied. As if a inch of skin left is insufficient to be deemed headles-"

"Headless? Then you must be Nearly Headless Nick! I read about you in Hogwarts: A History." Hermione butted in, to the ghost's displeasure. "I have to ask, how can you be nearly headless?"

"First of all, young lady, I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower." He looked extremely miffed, as if the chat wasn't going the way he wanted. "Second, like this!" And with that, he seized his left ear and pulled, swinging his head off his neck and onto his shoulder, revealing the bloody stump underneath. 

"Can you still feel the pain, Nick? And do ghosts still do magic?" Hermione pressed on.

"Goodness, you should talk with the Grey Lady! She would certainly shut you up!" SIr Nicholas declared before leaving, leaving Hermione flabbergasted and insulted.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding, and a variety of other sweets.

"I'm half-and-half," Seamus was saying, they had begun talking about their families. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” Neville laughed alongside them. "What 'bout you, 'arry?"

"Oh...my dad and godfather are purebloods. My mum's muggleborn, though." Harry's previous enthusiasm died down. "My aunt and uncle don't like magic, though..." 

“What’s a ‘Pure-blood’?” Hermione wondered out loud.

“It’s a family who _say_ they have no Muggles or Muggle-borns in their family.” Harry replied. "My godfather's family are fanatics, even their motto was 'Toujours Pur'..." 

“So, what does it mean if both your parents are Muggles?”

Harry paused and Hermione noticed a few of the Gryffindors glance around awkwardly, “Well, nothing to us!”

Hermione looked at him curiously.

“Okay so _some_ Pure-blood families think those who are, erm, Muggle-born are…” he paused.

“Just tell me!” Hermione exclaimed, grabbing his arm and gripping tight.

“Sorry, they just think they’re inferior, I guess. Like they aren’t meant to have magic.”

Hermione gasped, “What? That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, we know.” Ron nodded, as did others around him. "Your blood status doesn't mean-"

Neville glanced up at the High Table again as Hermione and Ron argued. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was in a deep discussion with Professor Dumbledore. Quirrell was talking with the greasy haired wizard when the latter looked past the other man, straight into Neville’s eyes and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Neville’s forehead. 

"What's wrong? This is the second time I've seen you look like sometime pinned a nail to your head."

"It's - it's nothing." Neville shook his head; the pain ceased as quickly as it had come. He rubbed the part of his forehead where the scar was, bewildered. “Who that talking with Professor Quirrell?" 

"That’s Professor Snape.” Harry gestured to the dark-haired professor discreetly. "He's the head of Slytherin."

"What does he teach?"

"Potions; though his real passion is Defense Against the Dark Arts; knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape, he's been after the positions for years." He then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Plus, he used to be one of...You-Know-Who's followers."

Neville looked back to Snape, who had his eyes looking over at the Gryffindors. Neville could certainly picture Snape as one of those Dark Wizards, and wonder how did he manage to get a job as a teacher. 

After the feast, the Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Neville tripped up the stairs once or twice but luckily none of the other students noticed. He did hear snickering from the portraits, which made his ears burn bright red.

There were so many twists and turns; Neville was not sure how he was going to find his way around without getting lost. They climbed multiple staircases, yawning and dragging their feet before finally reaching a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. "Password?" She asked.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase--they were obviously in one of the towers--they found their beds at last: Each of their four-posters hung with deep red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Neville fell asleep almost at once.


	6. Class Impressions

The classes themselves weren’t so bad as Neville discovered...on the condition he could find them, no thanks to the everchanging stairways, Filch and his cat, and the resident ghosts. The Hogwarts Student ghost, whose name Neville learnt and made a note to remember, was Duncan Ashe, who had apparently been murdered by someone called 'R', whatever that meant. Anyways, he had become one of the most dangerous 'pests' inside the castle, second only to Peeves, who was worth two locked doors and a tricky staircase if one ran into him when late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on student’s heads, pull rugs from under their feet, sneak behind unsuspecting victims while invisible, grab their nose and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!” This made Neville’s reputation for being clumsy all the more notorious.

Herbology with Professor Sprout was easily his favourite subject. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses and learned how to take care of all the plants and fungi and learned what they were used for; having practically grown up in a garden, it never failed to fascinate him.

The most boring class was History of Magic. He found the subject itself fascinating but Professor Binns, a ghost who droned on in a monotone voice, made it unbearably dull. He was rather old when he died while sitting in the staff room. The next day he got up to teach, leaving his body behind. Despite how boring his class was; Neville had to admire a teacher who was so dedicated, not even death stopped him.

Neville was among the first few who arrived for Transfiguration early, having made a point not only to not embarrass himself but also per his Gran's recommendation, although it appeared as if McGonagall herself was late; the only occupant in the room was a silver tabby cat on her desk. 

At least, that's what he thought; until Dean and Seamus both burst into the room, panting heavily, their robes in a state of disarray. "I told you we aren’t late. She isn’t even here." The latter was saying, and it was that moment when the cat to leap off the table and transformed back to her human form mid-leap. Harry chuckled quietly as the whole class gasped in surprise, with Dean exclaiming, "That, was bloody brilliant!"

"Why thank you for that assessment, Mr. Thomas." McGonagall replied coolly. "Perhaps I should turn Mr. Finnegan or yourself into a pocket watch? That way one of you might be on time."

"...We got lost."

"Then perhaps a map? I trust that you don't need one to find your seats." She promptly turned to her desk and addressed her students with a stern look. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and never come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all impressed and couldn’t wait to get started. They soon learned, however, that they weren't going to be changing the furniture any time soon. After taking a lot of complicated notes involving the dangers of Transfiguration when done improperly, as well as a debate between Hermione and McGonagall about whether Transfiguration will naturally wear off over time if not renewed, they were each given a match to try turning into a needle. By the end of class, Hermione was the first to have changed her match perfectly, while Harry only managed to turn his match from wood to metal, and Seamus had somehow exploded his. Professor McGonagall showed the class their results, giving Hermione a rare smile and Harry an impressed nod.

"Oh, and Professor McGonagall?" Neville said as the class was dismissed. "My gran says hi."

* * *

"Welcome to Charms everyone, my name is Professor Flitwick. I hope that most of you have had taken the time to at least glance over your books. Now then, can anyone tell me what will be the most important item for my class?"

As usual Hermione's hand shot up almost instantly, earning scowls from many of the other students.

"Ah yes, miss..."

"Granger, sir. The answer is our textbooks." She replied confidently.

"A good guess, but I am afraid incorrect, anyone else?" 

"Girl looks like someone just kicked her puppy." Harry whispered with amusement as several other hands now raised.

"A quill and paper?"

"That would be two objects, both incorrect as well." The professor answered the next student.

"A Wand?"

"Another good guess, but no." The diminutive man sighed. "The answer is our minds. Everything else can be compensated for with time... but the mind cannot. It is the most important tool that any of us will ever wield and the primary subject that all of your classes will focus on for your time at Hogwarts..."

* * *

The class everyone looked forward to was Defense against the Dark Arts. As it turned out, Professor Quirrell’s lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. When Hermione asked eagerly about how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and stammered that he would tell them when they started learning about zombies.

His turban had a strange odor coming from it. Ron heard from his brothers, a pair of twins called Fred and George, that it was stuffed full of garlic but Neville didn’t think it smelled the same as his classroom. Garlic was overpowering but the odor from his turban was just plain odd. Ron shrugged it off dismissively when he mentioned it to him.

* * *

Potions was one Neville was worrying. He had heard from Ron who had heard it from all his brothers that Snape was a rather harsh teacher, if not as harsh compared to McGonagall, but Harry quickly assured him otherwise.

"He's a big softie under that cold mask." Harry had told him. "Just make sure you don't look like you're not paying attention or you know it all. He doesn't like those who try to justify their faults."

Even with this in mind, Neville wasn't thrilled. On the day Potions class begun, he eventually got up and got ready after Harry rallied their dormmates to drag him out of bed. Once they made it down to the common room, Hermione once again could be heard brushing off everyone's concerns. "The upper years have pranked us in a lot of ways, maybe they’re just pulling our legs by making Professor Snape seem terrible." She said as they walked down to the Great Hall. "He can’t be that bad, Professor Dumbledore would have fired him by now if Professor Snape was truly abusive". She said as they ate their breakfast. "Professor McGonagall is pretty strict but still a good teacher, maybe Professor Snape will be the same but he’s Slytherin." 

“Hermione, please stop, you’re not really helping,” Ron muttered as his face turned green. “All this talking about it is making me want to throw up.” 

Hermione turned red and Neville noticed she kept her mouth shut after that. Neville felt bad for her, he could tell it had stung even though Ron hadn’t been mean. 

The Potions classroom was as eerie as they go; the dungeon in which they took their classes in was colder than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

"There will not be any foolish wand-waving attempts nor will there be intolerable screeching of mispronounced incantations." Snape strolled into the classroom with his robes fluttering behind him. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. _However_ ," His cold glance washed over the classroom, and Neville soon realised that the rumors of Snape were indeed not off. "For those _select few_ who possess the _predisposition_...I can teach you how to _bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses_. I can tell you how to _bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death_ \- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

There was a moment of silence as the class took in his words. Hermione in particular was squirming in her seat, looking desperate to start proving she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" He barked, causing Harry to jump in his seat, nearly spilling his ink. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"...Draught of Living Death, one of the strongest sleeping draughts ever made, Professor!" He replied confidently before Hermione's hand could fully extend. A faint smile curled up on Snape's lip before he switched targets.

"Longbottom!" He turned his attention to Neville next. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Neville racked his brains while an opportunistic Hermione stretched her hand as high as she could without leaving her seat. "They’re the same plant, and they also go by Aconite! The most popular use is in the Wolfsbane potion."

"I see you have at least you have taken the time to have done your research." Snape noted, somewhat disappointed before he heard the sound of chatter.

"Weasley!" He turned his glance towards the red-headed boy who had been chatting with Seamus. "Tell me, what will cause a explosive Cure for boils?"

"I don't know. But I think it seems like she does, though. Why not ask her?"

There was a wave of laughter that rippled across the classroom as Hermione, who had gotten out of her seat and started jumping up and down in a vain attempt to answer, turned pink. Ignoring the desperate, practically flailing, hand of the bushy-haired Gryffindor, Snape stalked towards his target.

"This ingredient, Weasley, is Bulbadox Powder. Coating your cauldron with it before brewing this potion will result in an explosive result. Well, why aren't you all copying this down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchments. Over the noise, Snape said, "Gryffindor, note that five points will be taken for poor preparations... and another ten for another causing silliness in my classroom."

"But sir, you asked us a question and I know the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Hermione protested, and for the first time in the class, Snape actually looked angry.

"Another ten points for your cheek and detention, Granger; another word from you shall be another ten taken." Snape glared at Hermione, who opened her mouth before she was dragged down by Ron as Snape turned back to the rest of the class. "And if I ever hear any of you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be _very_ sorry...indeed."

Things did not improve for the rest of the class. Snape swept around in his long black robe criticizing everyone except Harry, who in all fairness had indeed not made a notable mistake and had advanced the furthest among the class.

"Idiot!" Snape hissed at Ron. "Don't you dare add that! You will ruin your potion. Look at the way Potter masterfully stewed his horned slugs! Can't you follow even the most simplistic instructions?"

Neville must have been too busy mulling it over because the next thing he knew his cauldron melted to a twisted blob, its contents sweeping across the floor, burning holes into people's shoes. Neville instinctively maneuvered backwards away from the liquid as it melted, narrowly missing being drenched in the potion.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled as he vanished the spilled potion away with a wave of the wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville glanced down at his book and then nodded silently, his ears burning bright red.

"Stupid, careless mistake. That's another point from Gryffindor." Professor Snape rounded on Hermione and Ronald then, as they had been working next to the pair, "And you - Granger - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? Trying to upstage the Boy Who Lived? Ten points from Gryffindor.”

* * *

On Tuesday, Flying was the only one of the classes Hermione could be heard fussing greatly, which had amused Neville slightly. After all, this was something you could only learn through actual experience - not that it had stopped her from trying. She bored the entire house with facts from the library book called Quidditch of the Ages until the morning owls came in.

"Hey, look! Gran sent me a remembrall!" Neville said excitedly, unwrapping his parcel to reveal a glass marble filled with white smoke.

"And what would that be?" Hermione interjected, annoyed that her lecture was interrupted.

"This tells you if you've forgotten something or if there's something you were supposed to do and haven't. You're supposed to hold it tight like this and-" His face faltered as the smoke in the ball turned red. "It seems I've forgotten something...what was it?"

"The fact that you're interrupting my light reading?" She demanded, before closing the book looking resigned. "Then again, this book isn’t helpful for tips on flying. A real shame, because it was the only book in the library that looked remotely promising."

"Can you stop looking like you’re going to an execution?" Ron said, in a tone Neville privately thought was rather rude. "It’s flying lessons! It’ll be fun! Stop worrying!" 

Hermione rolled her eyes, before responding in an even ruder tone. “Oh I'm sorry. It’s not like I’m worrying on purpose for the fun of it, Weasley.” 

“You’re just scared because you can’t learn how to fly from reading a book!” Harry butted in. "No one learns how to fly from reading, you can only learn it by actually - y'know - flying!"

Dean and Seamus both snorted into their breakfast, trying to cover up their laughs. Hermione looked like she was ready to explode before slamming her hands on the table. She got up and walked away in a huff. 

Neville considered going after her, but Harry said something about how it was about time to go down to the pitch for their lesson, so Neville decided to stick with him and Ron. As much as he was not looking forward to the lesson, it would be embarrassing if the instructor had to call him out in front of everyone because he was late. 

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Neville, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Twenty broomsticks were lying in neat lines on the ground - as well as a red-faced Hermione who was reciting something. She must have stormed off straight to the lesson which did seem like a rather Hermione thing to do. Neville was worried her feelings had been seriously hurt, but besides glaring at Ron she seemed fine.

As the Slytherins began to arrive, Malfoy decided it was a good time to start up another bullying session.

"Hey, mudblood! Did you open a book about flying before coming to this class?" He taunted, a smirk spreading across his pointed face. "Have you even been on a broom before? Oh wait. You grew up with Muggles."

Hermione's face flushed as the Slytherins roared with laughter. Her hands clenched in the pockets of her robes and blinked rapidly, before she spoke up.

"At least I didn't grow up with pompous parents like yours."

Neville noted how Malfoy grew an interesting shade of red, and even he had to choke back his laughter, stopping when he spotted Madam Hooch, the strict flying instructor with short grey hair and yellow hawk like eyes. arriving.

"Good afternoon, class." She said, thankfully unaware of what had happened. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. What are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of your broomstick, stick your right hand over your broom and say 'Up'!"

"UP!" Everyone shouted.

Of all the brooms, only Harry and Draco's immediately jumped into their hands, while the rest rolled around except for Hermione's, which gave no signs of moving as she shot Harry a scathing look. Neville's broom nearly shot into his groin. Ignoring Harry's laughter, he took another deep breath before trying again. 

It felt like it was ten or more times of saying, “Up! Up. Up? Please up?” until the broom finally took pity and lifted itself enough that he was able to grab it. It did not come straight to his hand like Harry’s had, but Neville hadn’t really expected it to. Maybe brooms could sense fear like he’d heard horses could. He looked around again. Hermione was frowning down at her broomstick like it had personally offended her by staying on the ground. Since she liked to be the best in every class, it probably _had_ offended her. Parvati and Lavender were simply chatting, their brooms lying in the grass, forgotten. They were the only three not holding a broom. 

“Ladies, I want you to keep trying until you have your broomstick in your hand,” Madam Hooch said, noticing Parvati and Lavender slacking off. Unfortunately, Hermione didn’t notice that her dormmates had apparently given up and seemed to take Madam Hooch’s light admonishment personally. She looked near tears and was practically radiating frustration. Neville _really_ wished he had gone over to stand with her. Luckily, Madam Hooch, after getting Lavender and Parvati to hold their brooms, noticed Hermione’s plight and helped. Finally, Hermione was able to get her broom to come to her hand - after it repeatedly whacked her, Lavender, Parvati and basically everyone next to her. 

“Alright,” said Madam Hooch. “I see you are all holding a broomstick now. Excellent. The next thing you are going to do is mount your brooms. I will come around and examine your grip and stance before we proceed to actually flying.” 

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. She walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard." Madam Hooch said after she corrected Hermione's. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two - one-!” 

At that moment, Hermione, nervous and eager to prove herself, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips. "Miss Granger..." She warned. Hermione leaned forward slightly, but all it did was cause the poor witch to rise up higher and faster at a surprising speed for an old school broom. "Come back down this instant!"

But she could not; her broom refused to listen to its rider, and Hermione found herself shrieking as she performed involuntary somersaults. Neville watched as she clinged onto the broom upside down for dear life before she dived down and charged at the crowd. Even with Madam Hooch's slowing charm, it couldn't slow down enough before Neville was impaled by the rogue broom and sent flying into the castle wall, where he was sure he heard a sickening *crunch* before he dropped back down to the ground in agony.

"Everyone out of the way!" Madam Hooch shouted as she rushed over. "Oh my. Broken ribs. Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I escort Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing." She said, helping him up. "And if I see even a single broom in the air, the one riding it will be given a month's detention. Understand?" 

It wouldn't be until the next day did Neville know how much of an effect his injury had resulted.


	7. TROLL! IN THE DUNGEON!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied sexual assault occurs in this chapter. Proceed with caution. [Although I do not enjoy adding 'rape as backstory drama', since Rowling's '3600 word essay that justifies her transphobia' also says she was a victim of sexual assault, then sexual assault her avatar shall have.]

"You've got to be joking." Neville's jaw dropped in shock as they seated themselves at the morning table. "Seeker?! You've got to be the youngest one since - since -"

"Since forever. Wood - he's the Captain, by the way - told me." Harry grinned. "And it's thanks to your Remembrall, too. Sorry about your ribs, though."

"It's alright, Madam Pomfrey fixed it within the hour. Thanks for helping me get it back and into the common room. I swear, I need to write down the passwords somewhere..."

Their conversation was interrupted when Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over. “Well done, Harry. Oh, and don't worry..."

"You're the Beaters, right?" Harry grinned. "Wood told me last night. The rest are Angelina, Katie and Alicia?”

"Damn right. I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch Cup for sure this year." Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but if you're as good as Wood says, this year’s team is going to be brilliant - Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school."

"Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."

The twins had not gone far when a long, thin package carried by six owls was dropped in front of Harry, before a letter was dropped in front on top of the parcel by Harry's owl Hedwig. Harry quickly opened the letter before a smile grew on his face. "Take a look yourself."

Confused, Neville took the letter as Harry ran his fingers over the packaging paper.

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE_

_This is your Nimbus Two Thousand, but don't you tell anyone. Uncle Severus has my permission to confiscate it if there is so much as a rumor going around of you showing off with it before the first match. Your dad's beside himself with joy, says that he knew all along. Consider this an early Christmas present, and be sure to keep up your grades._

_Mum_

"Uncle Severus?" Neville asked, returning the letter. "Surely she's not talking about-"

"Professor Snape." Harry's face blushed pink. "Don't tell anyone, but he and my mum, well, they were childhood friends. Snape's the reason why I still have a mum; he spent the next six years after the attack healing her - although I will agree with my dad that he can be an arrogant git."

The two left the hall so they could properly unwrap it, though they had to first pass through the obstruction known as Draco Malfoy, who seemed to have expanded his friend group. There was a girl with a face that faintly resembled a baby pug and sported a cat smile holding onto his arm, while standing next to him was a tall, dark skinned boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes. And of course, Crabbe and Goyle, who seized Harry's package and handed it over to Draco. 

"That's a broomstick." Malfoy threw it back with a mixture of envy and intrigue. "I've got you now, Potter, first years aren't allowed to have their own brooms."

" _Well..._ it wouldn't be good for the Gryffindor Seeker to not have his own broom, would it?" Harry bragged with a cocky smile.

They gaped at him. "You what?" The dark skinned boy exclaimed. "But then, but then-"

"I do hope that none of you are decidingly wasting your time, blickerng." Snape appeared out of nowhere.

"Potter's got a broomstick, Professor." Draco quickly pointed out.

"And indeed he does, Professor McGonagall told me about the, _ahem_ , special circumstances." Snape replied coldly as he turned to Potter. "Now, shouldn't you be somewhere, Potter?" 

"You boy!" Filch's voice came around as Harry and Neville departed. "You think you're so clever, eh..."

"What is Filch going on about?" Neville asked as he looked back to see Filch rambling to Snape.

"Malfoy tried to trick me into a Wizard's duel, after I came back from Wood. Ignored him, of course - I know for a fact that wizard's duels aren't allowed in the school since last year, after some incidents with vaults or something..." 

"And I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules." 

Neville looked up to see Hermione Granger standing in front of them, her arms crossed and bandaged. "Well, now that you actually say it...yeah." Harry shrugged. "Then again, I'm not the one who lost control of their broom and sent the Boy Who Lived to the Hospital Wing. Oh yeah, and I'm not the one who got a week's detention for assaulting against another student. And I'm not the one who lost us house points for taunting students for no reason - I'm not expelled, am I?"

"For your information, Potter, Weasley attacked me first. He slapped me so hard I fell to the ground."

"Yeah, _after_ you impaled Neville with your broom! If I didn't know better, I'd thought you were trying to kill him."

"It's not my fault the broken broom didn't work! According to-"

"And speaking of which, you're the only one of our house in that class who _didn't_ try to visit him in the Hospital Wing."

Hermione glared at them both before marching off with her nose in the air. 

* * *

Hermione was in a foul mood from that day on, as Neville soon found out. She had taken upon herself to show herself off in class, robbing question after question and attempting to upstage everyone else. That day, in Transfiguration, she harshly critiqued Seamus's attempt to turn water into rum, who had somehow detonated his cup. In the following week in Herbology, she scolded Dean for stepping too close to the Spiky Bush, which ended with both of their arms filled with spikes. But the final straw was during Potions and Charms on Samhain, where the teachers had decided to put them in teams.

"Today, we'll be attempting to produce a Wiggenweld Potion, used to heal injuries or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught." Severus announced, before waving his wand. On the board, the instructions appeared. Moments later, the students scrambled towards the ingredients cupboard, though Neville was surprised to see Harry remained seated.

“Aren’t you going to get the ingredients?” Hermione, who was his partner, scolded loudly. Her hands were just unbandaged from the scrape she had inflicted on Ron, though weak. “The potion takes exactly one hour to brew. We won’t finish in time if you don’t move _now!_ ”

Harry simply raised an eyebrow, “I don’t want to get caught in that scramble, who knows how much I'll lose. I'll get them as soon as there's less traffic…”

“But the potion takes one full…”

“Trust me. We will finish in time,” Harry rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat as he waited for the students to return to theirs. Hermione meanwhile gazed at him angrily. She opened her mouth five times to get him to move, before Harry eventually stood up to gather the ingredients. Neville wondered what Harry was going to do as he quickly began processing his wiggenweld bark.

“These aren’t enough lionfish spines!” Hermione shrieked, as Harry returned. “The recipe requires ten and you only brought five.”

Ignoring her, Harry began to finely dice the bark. “I will only need five. We won’t be following the official instructions…”

“But…”

Waving his wand at the brass cauldron, Harry magically cleaned it, filled it with the salamander blood and slowly brought it to a simmer before returning to his bark, “if we follow the official instructions, we won’t finish in time. That’s why we’re taking a few shortcuts.” Ah, that's why. Neville had to admit, Harry was far more advanced than anyone else in the class for Potions, he doubted Harry would have trouble.

“But that’s cheating!” Hermione protested, getting more than a few stares. “And all the things that could go wrong. I’ve read that some potions ingredients react badly with each other. That’s why it’s better to stay with the official…”

“Don’t. Worry.” Harry snapped, nearly spilling his flobberworm mucus. “I know the theory. It. Will. Work.”

“But…”

"Miss Granger, keep your voice down." Severus glared at her, “While under... _normal circumstances..._ I wouldn’t allow a student to deviate from the instructions, but Mr. Potter here indeed knows the theory behind potions, as proven by his superb essays. A deep knowledge of the theory of potions allows you to brew freely – _to substitute ingredients, specify the potions to your needs, take shortcuts -_ to combine them and to create something _entirely_ new. I trust him _not_ to create poison or melt his cauldron. Watch what he is doing and take notice of the ways he... _deviates..._ from the official instructions. I hope you can do that, Miss Granger. If not, I’m afraid you’re... _disturbing..._ the peace of my class."

Hermione kept quiet after the threat. Although she inhaled sharply every time Harry added an anti-clockwise stir, used moly instead of dittany, or squashed the mint to a paste before adding it, her worries turned out completely unfounded. His potion changed to the desired mint green, long before any other pairing had reached the simmering stage; Neville's was still turquoise, while Ron's looked like mud. Granger stared at him with wide eyes as he lowered the heat and waited until the potion was ready to be bottled. Suddenly, a dark figure towered over their table, “Potter, that looks more than adequate. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Severus then moved towards another table and sneered as he looked at the smoking mess inside the cauldron. “Ah Mr. Weasley, a barely functional potion once again. Five points from Gryffindor.”

“Wh-what! Why!?”

“Because, Mr. Weasley, you are supposed to do your own work and not rely on your partner to do it all for you. We both know that it is Ms. Granger's efforts that keep you from failing this class. Seeing at your poor attempt to beat this... _disaster_... with Mr. Finnegan is proof of your mediocre talent.”

“B-but...”

The man had already moved on, giving Draco a passing grade for his work. In the meantime Ron sent a nasty glare towards the bookworm, silently blaming her for his misblamed misfortune once again.

The girl merely hung her head, her eyes downcast and her teeth grinding as she looked like she wanted to rip something.

* * *

"Swish and flick everyone." Professor Flitwick said after he sorted everyone into groups of two. "And remember saying the words clearly."

They were each given a feather to begin practicing the Levitation Charm. It was harder than it sounds, Neville soon found out - no matter how much he swished and flicked, his feather refused to move. Seamus got so impatient that he actually smacked his, ending up with a blown up flaming feather for his efforts. Harry had some luck actually making his feather twitch, although the same could not be said for his partner Ron, who was flailing his arms like a broken windmill. "Wingardium Leviosar!" 

"Stop it! You're going to take someone's eye out if you keep waving your stick like that." Hermione Granger, who was sitting next to him, grabbed his arm and forced it down. "Besides, you're saying it wrong. It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-O-sa! Not Levi-o-SAR! And you need to pull out the 'gar'!"

"You do it, then, if you're so clever." Ron retorted. Hermione rolled up her sleeves, gave Ron a smug look, before nonchalantly speaking the incantation. Her feather rose up eight feet before it dropped on his head.

"Well...ten points to Gryffindor." Professor Flitwick clapped, while every student in the class glared at her.

As they walked out of class, Weasley angrily walked ahead, loudly complaining to Thomas, his voice imitating Granger’s lecturing mode, “ ** _Levi-O-sa! Not Levi-o-SAR!_** Ugh, no _wonder_ she doesn't have any friends! Honestly, would you put up with that _mess_? Why isn't she in Ravenclaw!”

"My dad said Ravenclaws aren't just smart, they're creative." Harry replied. "I'm seriously wondering why, all of people, she's a witch - even Draco's better than her, and he's a Pureblood fanatic!"

Neville opened his mouth to answer, but someone shoved themselves between him and Harry, knocking into Neville to the ground as they hurried past the group. Draco noted the bushy hair, and realized it had been Granger. caught a glimpse of her face - and was startled to see that she was in tears. 

"I think she heard ya." Seamus voice chimed in a few paces in front of Neville.

"So?" Said Ron, but he looked a bit guilty. "It’s just...she was talking to me like I was stupid, and I _hate_ when people do that! I’m not stupid!"

"You also have the empathy and tact of a troll. Apologize the next time you see her and explain that." said Neville swiftly. “She’s Muggleborn, I don’t think she understands that sometimes help isn’t always wanted.”

“It’s like that in the Muggle world too.” Harry said, as they arrived at the Defense classroom. “I think it’s just her.”

* * *

"...couldn't get her out of the girl's bathroom." Parvati Patil was saying, curling a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear as she spoke. "She refused to say why she was upset."

"Oh, didn't you hear what that ginger boy - Ron Weasley, I think that's his name - said about her not having any friends?" Lavender Brown responded. "Glad that someone finally put Hermione Granger in her place. I can't stand her!"

As the two continued their gossip to the Great Hall, they were unaware of their talk being overheard. "Hey, Lucian, you heard what those Gryffindorks were saying?" 

The Slytherin Beater looked up lazily and smiled. "I recognize that. That mudblood from Gryffindork, Parkinson was talking 'bout how she's an ass-kisser for the teachers the other day."

"Yeah. And looks like someone finally put her in her place." Peregrine Derrick got up from his seat. "Why don't we also do the same?" 

Lucian Bole concealed a dark smirk as they headed towards the bathroom. "You sure? She doesn't look like she got anything on her figure. And her teeth - man I want to knock them out. Nothing but a bossy, hideous little mudblood."

"C'mon, man - we'll corner her in the bathroom or take her elsewhere - I know the one on the second floor is always empty except that mudblood ghost..." 

* * *

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the flames in the miniature bonfires stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Yet the Samhain decorations weren't enough for Neville to dispel his thought over Hermione's disappearance - she had been absent all afternoon.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Fred and George Weasley came over. "Apparently, someone decided to put her in her place. They say she's been in the bathroom crying herself to sleep!"

Neville silently pondered over Hermione's state as he helped himself to a baked potato. Sure, she was mean, but Harry and Ron were also a bit insensitive. Then again, given the circumstances, who wouldn't? 

"Anyways, think we ought to figure out what's under the three headed dog, don't we, o' brother of mine?"

"Three headed dog?" Harry asked, and Neville' attention was pulled back to reality. 

"Oh yeah." Fred grinned. "We rallied a few of our friends to find out why exactly the corridor's banned. Turns out, there's this big, three headed dog, locked inside. Tall as the classroom, six eyes staring at us. Then Beatrice decided to try a Incendio, and we had to bail from a three headed dog on fire."

"Would had been the end of our discovery, until Cedric pointed out that the beast was over a trapdoor of some sorts." George continued. "Now we're guess-"

"Troll! IN THE DUNGEON!! **TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!!!** " Quirrell screamed as he burst into the hall, his turban askew and blood splattered on his shirt. "...thought you ought to know." He mumbled weakly before he collapsed.

There was an uproar. Students were screaming and running around like their heads were cut off. and suddenly there was a loud voice - louder than Neville thought was possible - booming over the Great Hall. 

**"SILENCE!!!!!!!"** Dumbledore boomed. "Everyone, do not panic! All prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!" 

The staff had gotten to their feet, rushing to find the troll when Snape suddenly paused. "Albus." He said. "The troll is in the dungeons." 

"This is no time to parrot Quirrell's words, Severus!"

"And you've asked the students to go back to their common rooms." Snape ignored McGonagall's barking. "Need I to remind you that _the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms are also in the dungeons?_ " 

"Oh my God, Severus, you're right!" Sprout stopped in shock. Even Dumbledore seemed to have realized his error.

"Severus, Pomona, check on your students immediately." He ordered, before raising his wand as a ghostly bird burst out from the tip and off as the two Heads of Houses took off, just as a third person came running in.

"Professors!" Percy Weasley shouted. "Neville Longbottom has just informed me of a Hermione Granger's disappearance."

* * *

"You sure you did it right?" Derricks asked as he pulled up his pants, looking at the dazed and defiled mudblood who they threw in the stall.

"It _is_ Obliviate, I know that." Bole shrugged as he put on his robe. "Should cover the last hour or so."

"Brilliant." Derricks grinned as he cautiously poked his head out. "Uh... Lucian?" 

"Yeah?"

"I don't mean to alarm you, but there's a troll in the corridor."

" _What?!_ " The Beater followed his friend out, and saw a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long. There was no mistaking what it was. "The hell did that come from?!"

"Dunno, but that means the Professors are gonna find out 'bout us!" Lucian gulped, ready to run.

"Wait." The Beater looked back at the stall, where the Mudblood was still there. "Isn't there something we could use to wake her up?"

"What are - oh, I see." An ugly smile appeared before he aimed his wand at her. "Rennervate." 

As Hermione was brought back to consciousness, she was unaware of the two Slytherin Beaters fleeing outside. In fact, she didn't know how she got to where she was. When had she collapsed?

Checking her body for bruises, she was worried when she found several forming on her hips and neck, alongside something white and sticky in her bushy hair, her flat chest and between her thighs, the latter place was also mixed with lines of red. She stood on shaky legs, a terrible pain shooting up in her groin, and leaned against the side of the building for support for a moment before finally finding the strength to stand.

She racked her brains to piece back what happened. And then she remembered. She came in here to cry, to vent her frustrations to the world, after that Potter and Weasley boy made fun of her.

It wasn't fair, she told herself. She was muggleborn, and thus had no idea about how the Wizarding World worked. She tried to compensate by reading everything she could get her hands on, but still there were some things that were unknown. 

Drying her tears and trying to clean the mess on her, she wobbled out of the stall, only for her eyes to meet with flat, horny feet connected to short legs thick as tree trunks. She looked up to see the full, twelve foot tall troll looming over her, and despite the weakness in her lower body, she managed to find the strength to fall back into the stall she was in, moments before the troll raised its wooden club and swung, demolishing half of the stall doors.

Everything Hermione had learned about Mountain Trolls left her brain, and she started firing spells at random. None of them managed to affect the beast, and her perfect pronunciation of 'Wingardium Leviosa!' only served to enrage the troll when its club was floating midair. It picked up the young witch and began shaking her like a rag doll.

It was around this point that a brilliant blue jet of light hit the troll, bursting into a large protective bubble. McGonagall gasped in worry that they might have been too late when she saw the unconscious girl in its grasp, before she was quickly levitated towards the Hospital Wing. 

The rumors of what happened would never be gone.


	8. First Game

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray, the lake like chilled steel and the ground covered in frost every morning. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs window defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves and enormous beaver skin boots.

Speaking of Quidditch, Neville had heard rumors of people discussing the upcoming Quidditch match, more importantly of Gryffindor's new seeker. He suspected it was either Draco or the Weasley twins who leaked, the former probably out of spiteful jealousy and the latter because Hermione had caught them gathering bets for the match, and if not for Wood's quick thinking Gryffindor would have been down their seeker before he even debuted.

Whatever the case, Neville noticed that Harry didn't seem to be the type who actually enjoyed being the center of attention, despite his façade of looking proud. In fact, he looked horrible on the morning of the match. Although the Great Hall was full of the delicious aroma of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match, Harry looked glum and potentially sick.

"Come on, Harry, you've got to at least eat something." Neville looked worried. "Even a bit of toast will do."

“I'm not hungry.” Harry saidd stubbornly. "Neville, I’m fine.”

"Harry, you need your strength." Ron said, while the Twins began piling sausages and ketchup onto his plate. "Seekers are the ones who get clobbered the most by the other team."

"...thanks."

* * *

By noon, the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the quidditch pitch. Many students brought binoculars; though the seats were raised high into the air, it was still difficult to keep up with all the action. 

Granger was sitting in the lower rows, next to Lavender and Parvati, both who looked discomforting. Neville came over and offered her to join him on the top row, but she snapped and told him off, forcing him to give the latter two girls an apology before joining Ron, Seamus and Dean as the school waited in anticipation. Apparently, the three had refurbished a sheet which Ron's rat had ruined into a large banner which spelled 'Potter for Minister', complete with a Gryffindor lion courtesy of Dean's painting skills. 

Madam Hooch flew towards the the middle of the field and dismounted just as fourteen brooms came flying out onto the field. "Now I want a fair game, all of you." She called out as she stood in the middle of the field. The captains, Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint, glared at each other, before the four balls are released.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor." The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, and apparently being closely watched by Professor McGonagall. “And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he’s going to - no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that’s Chaser Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she’s really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!”

Gryffindors cheers filled the cold air while the Slytherins displayed their outrage with boos.

"Budge up there, move along." Hagrid's voice came as he made his way to the row, followed by a familiar woman and a tall, thin man with hazel eyes and untidy black hair that stuck up at the back, helping the former walk. 

"Hey Hagrid!" Neville moved to give Hagrid and the two adults enough space to join them. "Come to watch the match?"

"Bin watchin' from me hut." Hagrid patted a large pair of binoculars around his neck. "But it ain't the same as bein' in the crowd."

"Told you so, Hagrid!" The man said, before he took notice of Neville. "Well, I never! Pleasure meeting you, Neville."

"You're Neville?" The woman turned to him, and Neville wondered where he had seen those eyes. "Delighted to meet you. I'm Lily Potter, and this is my husband James."

"The pleasure's min-" Something clicked. "You're Harry's parents?"

"...Slytherin in possession." Lee Jordan was saying. "Chaser Pucey ducks two bludgers, two Weasleys, and one Chaser Katie Bell, diving towards the - was that the snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as both seekers dived towards the golden ball, which seemed to have zipped out from Pucey's ear. Then came a roar of "FOUL!" when Captain Flint blocked a faster Harry, spinning him off course as Harry was nearly knocked off his broom.

"Bloody cheats!" James Potter roared while Dean was screaming 'RED CARD!' repeatedly. "Have you no honor?!"

"So, after that open and revolting foul - "

"Jordan...!"

"I mean, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating - "

"Jordan!"

"Fine! Captain Flint _nearly_ murders the Gryffindor Seeker Potter, the youngest seeker in fact for a century, which could _obviously_ happen to anyone in particular, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Chaser Alicia Spinnet who puts it away, no trouble, _and we continue to play._ Slytherin now in possession..."

"What's he doing?" Ron hissed in aggravation. Neville quickly lost track of the commentary as they looked around to see Harry flying in a small circle in the corner of the field.

People in the stands were pointing and laughing at his antics, while James seemed concerned, before confusion turned to horror when his broom gave a sudden lurch and was zigzagging in the air.

Neville eyed Harry with fear, more worried than agitated by this point. The rest of the game became a blur as he witnessed Harry act like he had no idea what he was doing. He nearly fell off his broom several times, and his stomach did somersaults every time with Harry's broom. _What happened?_

"Did something happen when Flint blocked him?" Seamus asked nervously, his stomach lurching as one of the Weasley's narrowly beat a Bludger away from Harry, who appeared oblivious that anything had occurred at all.

"Can't have." Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful dark magic - no kid could do that level of stuff."

"Hagrid's right, I personally checked the broom - no one's placed a hurling hex on it." Lily's voice wavered. "And that's O.W.L. level stuff."

"It's not just the broom, it's Harry!" James' jaw dropped as he stood up. "Someone confunded him!"

He vaguely heard the rest of cheering from Slytherin after a goal scored. He couldn't stop watching Harry with a strong sense of foreboding overwhelming him. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull an oblivious Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good — every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

"Gryffindor in possession-"

That was when Harry let go of his grip as the broom gave a strong lunge. He took a nosedive straight toward the ground as though he had forgotten how to fly. Neville stood, his mouth ajar, eyes bugging out of his head. "Harry!" He yelled out.

Then, in a blink of an eye, Harry's entire body slowed, as though time was reforming around him. He landed on the ground with a slight bounce as though he was on an invisible pillow. Neville turned and saw Dumbledore and McGonagall standing with their wands out. He had no idea what they had done but he didn't care. Harry was safe.

There was a blowing of a whistle as the Gryffindor team rushed down to the field. He saw Wood grab Harry by the shoulders while the latter laughed like a madman before Madam Hooch arrived, while Hagrid was keeping Lily from jumping off from the stands and towards the field. 

Those moments were mixed with uncertainty, Neville was sincerely hoping that Harry was alright. He could see the uncertain looks as Madam Pomfrey also came on the field and looked over Harry through his binoculars, before the game was resumed.

"We've back after the time out where Professor McGonagall has just informed me that Seeker Potter appeared to have been jinxed with a Confundus Charm, which to those unaware causes confusion, hysteria and misdirection, as just seen. Back to the game..." 

Whatever Lee said, Neville hadn't bothered to continue listening. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know. But all I know is that I'm having a word with Snivel-" James caught a glance at Lily. "-Severus about his students."

"Don't worry, dear." Lily's voice was quiet. "Leave the talking to me. I told Severus to not let Harry get in major danger..."

Neville decided to take a look at the Teacher's Stand, and was taken aback when people were crowded around the Potions Master, who in this instance appeared to be stomping on something. _'What is going on?'_ He thought, before there was excited screaming around him.

"And Potter swallowed the Snitch like a chocolate Frog!" Lee was hollering, while Fred and George took Harry on their shoulders and raised him high for everyone to see the Golden Snitch in his hand. "Gryffindor wins, one seventy to sixty!" 

* * *

"It was Snape." Hermione was saying. "I saw him cursing Harry's broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off Harry!"

"That's mad! A right holy show if ya ask me!" Seamus remarked. "Why the frick would Snape do something like that? He's a Hogwarts teacher!"

"Seamus, I know a jinx when I see one; I read all about them!"

"Of course you do." Ron muttered from nearby. "Waiting to curse us in our backs, are you? Not our fault you went fighting with a troll."

"Shut up, Weasley! Anyway, you've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!" Hermione paused when Harry came into the Common Room looking stunned. "Harry, did you know that Snape-"

"-saved my life?" Harry's response took her aback, and she was certain she heard Harry's roommates snickering.

"But he jinxed your broom! He confunded-"

"Somebody had to have, because there's no other way I'd have fallen off my broom." Harry now looked irritated. "But have you thought that maybe, just maybe, if it was someone else, and he was doing a counter-jinx? And you're supposed to be _the smartest one_."


	9. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small filler chapter; this isn't the original, and I would daresay that book title might be a bit clickbaity. It's basically the beginning of the Mirror of Erised mixed with my attempt of Rowling's deleted chapter that shows Nott and Draco's friendship, though here, it's much more strained.

Yule was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his hat. The few owls that managed to fight through the blizzard to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health, including Hedwig, who Harry spent a long time agonizing about before Hagrid reassured him that she could fly again

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in mist before them and they kept as close together to their hot cauldrons. Neville hated to think what the Slytherin and Hufflepuff dormitories were like.

"I do feel sorry," Draco was saying during the last Potions class of Christmas. "for all the people who are staying at Hogwarts for Christmas because they aren't welcome at home.

He was looking over at Ron as he spoke, inciting a row of laughter among the Slytherins and even among the Gryffindors until Snape silenced them with a glare. Neville looked over at him with pity; apparently, Ron's parents were visiting his second eldest (Neville still had some disbelief over the sheer size of the Weasley family) brother Charlie who was working in Romania studying dragons, while his younger sister Ginny was going to stay with his Great Aunt Muriel.

When they left the dungeons at the end of class, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor, where two enormous feet sticking at the bottom and a loud huffing sound told him that Hagrid was responsible.

"Hi Hagrid, need some help?"

"Oh, hello Ronald." Hagrid's muffled voice came through. "Fergot this corridor wasn't empty."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" Draco's drawl came behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Bet your family can't even afford to feed all of-"

Ron dived at the Malfoy heir and landed a few punches just as Snape emerged from the classroom. "Mr. Weasley...step...away...from Mr. Malfoy."

"He was provoked, Professor Snape." Hagrid stuck his huge hairy face from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insulting his family."

"Be as that may, fighting is still against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid." Snape replied silkily. "Five points from both Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin, and be grateful it isn't more."

The two boys looked at each other distrustfully before leaving, though Draco muttered something along the lines of 'My Father will hear about this.' Severus shook his head, Lucius had took too long to pull his reins on his son. 

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he retreated back to his office, finding solace within the cold atmosphere of the room. After all, a quiet Christmas Eve spent beside a crackling cauldron fire watching the snowflakes fall outside his window was all Severus needed. Another time to repent on everything he had done, he thought as a hand subconsciously touched his cheek; he still remembered the red mark that Lily had left when he tried to apologize the first time. 

* * *

Hermione sat on her bed, curtains drawn as she went over her homework once more, yet as she tried to do so her mind betrayed the focus she so desperately sought and journeyed towards the window and looked down at the trail of people heading to the Hogwarts Express and scowled.

Harry Potter, speaking cheerfully with her Boy-Who-Lived.

The bushy-haired girl knew who Neville was the moment she saw him, of course, and the story behind him. She had believed that it was just silly myth and legend. Sure, he might have survived, through some bizarre magic, the attempt on his life but all of the other tales? Ridiculous at best, outright lies at worst.

As for Potter, after the whole 'Flying Assassination Incident', she decided to dig up any dirt on that green eyed prat and found a lot of useful ammunition. Apparently, his parents and godfather, the latter who was currently serving time, were almost tortured to insanity by some dark wizards, and he was raised by muggles for a brief period of time. She raised her eyes when she discovered that Snape, of all people, had been involved in their recovery. Actually, that most definitely explains why he was so well at Potions; he probably had Snape tutor him. 

Potter wasn't the only prat in the school - it seems that most of her peers didn't like her. For the first two months of school they had made fun of her, calling her a bookworm or beaver. While the taunting was mean, it was something she had grown accustomed to in primary school. Coming face-to-face with a gigantic mountain troll, however, was not. Halloween was, without a doubt, the most terrifying moment of her entire life, and if it weren't for the Professors she would most likely be dead. 

The thought of the Troll sent a shiver down her spine. The image would probably never leave her mind, not if she tried. Still, no use dwelling over it - there were books to be read.

* * *

The ballroom inside Malfoy Manor was filled with wizards and witches of all ages; although they all had one thing in common: being proud of being a Pureblood.

Standing on an elevated platform, Lucius Malfoy, patriarch of the Malfoy family, clinked his glass to gather the attention of his guests. "Thank you all very much for joining us here tonight at our winter ball. It is with great gratitude I welcome all newcoming families for gracing us with their presence, and thank those familiar for returning. So please, a toast to you all, for a new and better future for us purebloods!" 

"Lucius, old friend. Thank you for hosting this event." A stooped man came over, helped by a younger, taller, and weakly built boy. Lucius extended a hand to greet the old man.

"Ah, young Theodore. Draco had me to believe that you wouldn't be joining." Lucius looked down at the younger Nott, who gritted his teeth. "Why don't you join my son over while your father and I talk about...the old times?" He pointed out Draco on the emerald Canapé à Confidante Sofa who sipped tea while having a chat with Blaise who had the Greengrass sisters in his arms.

Nodding respectfully, he strode towards the Malfoy heir when his path was suddenly blocked by Pansy Parkinson. "My, my. The elusive Nott makes an appearance." She purred. 

Theodore frowned as he looked over the girl. Her olive skin was covered by pale pink robes, while her silky, chin-length, raven colored hair was rearranged into a thick braid. He silently seethed over how the Malfoys had his family under their grip. "Here on behalf of Malfoy, are you?" 

"Oh, no. Just that Tracey pointed you out. You hardly ever join the rest of us Slytherins."

"Some of us don't need to join another to survive." Theodore pushed her aside as he made his way towards the younger Malfoy. 

"Ah, Theodore. Finally joining our galla, are you?" Draco said cooIy, while Blaise was sneering. "How are you?"

"Skip the pleasantries. Unlike you, Malfoy, some of us have better things to do than rule the Slytherin Court." He replied. A dark shadow passed on the boy's face, and he shot a look towards the Italian casanova, who excused himself and his dates to somewhere private. 

"Well, why are you here? And I don't suppose it's because you want to join." The joviality in Draco's face vanished as he stood and was replaced with a cold callousness.

"Never one for subtlety, are you?" Theodore gave a haughty smile. "My father is here to discuss our business with your family. I'm just stuck with you until midnight."

"Very well. And what would you be doing if you weren't stuck with me?"

"Practicing my dueling skills or maybe botching a cure for boils so I can throw it in your face."

The two stared at each other before Draco chuckled. “Can we not argue? Leave the taunting to the Gryffindorks and Mudbloods.” His eyes darkened for a bit, even if his expression remained calm. “What is the point if we fight against our own?” 

"...Then what do you propose we talk about?"

“Pansy was telling me earlier about the break-in at Gringotts.” Draco's face turned serious. “July 31st. They suspect a Dark wizard or witch is the culprit. Yet nothing was taken. Think that's not odd?” 

"Well, it's nothing like what my father said back in the way. Especially since Dumbledore's become Chief Warlock." Theodore's sneer is just a little smaller for his father than it is for him. "He's quite senile, isn't he?"

"No less than yours; he's been headmaster long before my father joined the governors. He can't do anything about him unless there's complains against Dumbledore in particular. And for all the changes in this castle in the last ten years, no one was ever able to tie any complains directly to Dumbledore."

"I doubt it. Vanquisher of Grindewald, the only person feared by the Dark Lord, protector of Longbottom. He could probably get away with anything. Speaking of Longbottom, how do you think he survived?" Theodore suddenly asked. "No one has ever survived the Killing Curse - there's no blocking it unless you manage to get out of the way or with some object."

"My father used to think he could be some sort of dark wizard." Draco let out a laugh. "Judging from what we saw, that's definitely not. Not with his blood traitor attitude. If Bole and Derrick had been wasting themselves longer they might have been caught with the mudblood they decided to rape." 

"I pity the fool. He's been brainwashed by Potter." Theodore frowned. "Though something about him unnerves me."

That was something Draco wasn't expecting. "What do you mean?"

"It's just this feeling - particularly when he's ready to break. I was trying to get him in detention, and - if you can believe it - this surge of magic nearly choked me."

"You're saying that _Potter_ is a dark wizard?"

"No, not that! I'm saying that there's something dark inside Potter, though I don't know what..." 

The two were quiet, before there was the sound of pleasured moaning nearby. "...I dunno why you keep Blaise at arm's length. He's more likely to be getting into panties than getting with others." 

"Blaise's life is a lot more simpler than ours. It's why he's my right hand - after Crabbe and Goyle." 

Theodore opened his mouth to respond when his father came limping over, followed by Lucius. "There you are, boy!" He hissed angrily. "Come now, back to the house. And get your hands off him."

"Yes, Father." Nott nodded before turning a callous look towards Draco. "Farewell, Malfoy."

"Did he bother you, Draco?" Lucius asked as the two watched the Notts vanish out of the door.

"No, Father." Draco shook his head. "Nothing at all."


	10. Dragon Egg

Once the term had resumed, Neville couldn't help but dread returning to school after a rather peaceful holiday with his Gran talking about whether or not he made new friends and pride in him being sorted in Gryffindor. She did show distain towards when he mentioned and described Hermione, saying that people like her were the reason why the Stature of Secrecy was made.

And now Neville had begun to share her perspective, when Hermione had begun drawing study schedules and color coding all her notes, as well as nagging anyone to give her theirs.

"Granger, the exam are ages away." Parvati muttered when Hermione came asking for her notes.

"Ten weeks." Hermione snapped at Lavender. "That's not ages, just a blink of an eye and it'll gone!" 

"Anyways, what are you studying for, don't you already suck enough for the Professors to teach you everything?" Lavender asked.

" _What am I studying for?_ Are you mad? Don't you have anything on your mind than useless gossip?" Hermione shrieked. "You do realize we need to pass these exams to get into second year?! They're very important - I should have started three months ago - I don't know what got over me?"

"Geez, Granger, chill down." Ron came over. "The exams aren't that difficult, you make them sound like you're gonna wrestle a troll; then again, you probably have, haven't you?"

Unfortunately, the Professors seemed to be sharing Hermione's sentiment. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't as much fun as Christmas. Not that they could when Hermione was studying like mad, reciting the twelve uses of dragon blood or practicing wand movements whenever and wherever she went. 

"I'll never remember this." Ron burst out one afternoon, as he, Neville and Harry left the library, up to their chin with textbooks. Neville, who was looking up on how to add details to a transfigured snuffbox, didn't look up until he heard someone say. "...You're mental."

Four people were gathered in a corridor, speaking in hushed tones. Two of whom he was certain were the Weasley twins, one a girl he thought looked vaguely familiar, and the last an extremely handsome boy with chiseled features, dark hair, and bright grey eyes that Neville thought he might have seen during Quidditch matches. "C'mon, Cedric. How many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" One of the twins was saying.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, though I expect that's nothing new to you two." Cedric Diggory looked ready to slam his head into the wall. "Not to mention if we get caught alongside Hagrid with that-" 

"Fred? George? Where are you going?" The four of them froze, before the twins turned around looking sheepish at the three.

"Well, great." The hufflepuff girl muttered as she put a hand in her face. "Thought you two said there wasn't anyone in this corridor."

"Not our fault, dear Beatrice..."

"Clearly, our dear Ronnikins is looking to join us as the next pranksters-"

"Forget that! And what are you four talking about?"

The four of them looked at each other before Cedric sighed. "Don't tell anyone, but we're debating whether or not to see a dragon egg hatch."

"What?" Neville looked flabbergasted. "But there aren't any dragons in Hogwarts, are there?"

"Course not! Well, if you count the connecting portrait that we traded to Duncan Ashe for the key to Flich's office-"

"-though that one's a portkey, and I'm not sure if it counts as Hogwarts-"

"Long story short - we caught Hagrid reading about how to care for a dragon while we were searching for, uh, something alchemy related last friday." Cedric held a piece of paper. "And he just informed us that the egg - he won it from a game of cards last month, if you're wondering - is hatching."

"What?" Ron looked shocked. "But isn't dragon breeding illegal? Wow, I actually remembered something from Binns."

"Well, yes, we tried to tell him. Emphasis on the word _tried_." Beatrice Haywood sighed. "Went through one ear and out the other. But don't distract us, and you better not go telling anyone else."

"Alright, as long as you bring us along." The two hufflepuffs stared at Harry who shrugged. "C'mon, how often is it do you get to watch a dragon hatch?"

"Glad Harry here gets us!" The Weasley twins chorused, while Beatrice sighed as Cedric shook his head.

* * *

Later that evening, the seven of them crept down to Hagrid's hut. He was surprised of the latter three, but Cedric convinced him otherwise.

"Hagrid, can you open a window or something?" Ron asked as the door was shut. "It's boiling here."

Hagrid would have responded if not for a creaking noise, and he quickly put on a pair of muffs before pulling something from his stove. It was large, black and covered in cracks; the egg definitely was close to hatching. "Hagrid. What species is this?"

"The seller said it was a Norwegian Ridgeback, though could be a Hungarian Horntail." Cedric blanched at the mere thought as Hagrid continued. "Seemed willing to get rid of it, now tha' I thin' about it..." 

All at once, there was a scraping noise and the egg cracked into pieces. The baby dragon flopped onto the table like a flimsy broken doll. It's spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils stubby horns and bulging orange eyes.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Hagrid cooed, reaching out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. "Oh bless her, she knows her daddy! 'Ello Norberta."

"Norberta?" Neville asked, still amazed at the sight.

"Yeah, well, she's gotta have a name, dun' she?" Hagrid replied, before Norberta sneezed out a small shower of sparks that set aflame Hagrid's beard. Beatrice looked on in concern.

"...Hagrid, how quickly do Norwegian Widgebacks grow?" 

Hagrid was about to answer when he suddenly leapt to his feet, the color drained from his face as he peered out the window. "Oh no, this ain't good!"

"What's wrong?" Beatrice asked, though Neville had a suspicion.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - she's runnin' back up ter the school." Neville and Harry took one look at each other before bolting to the door and looked out. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking that bushy hair flailing behind her.

Granger had seen Norberta.

* * *

Something about the unsettling, victorious smile lurking on Granger's face during the next month made Neville, Harry and Ron unnerved, she looked at them like she wanted to cannibalize them.

The older four had returned to Hagrid's hut in their spare time, but Fred and George informed the three that there was no reasoning with Hagrid; he refused to let the 'poor defenseless baby' go until she could fend for herself.

"Don't get us wrong, we're not that cruel to send the dragon to its doom, we have standards." George was saying. "But I don't think anyone can keep something like that here. he lives in a house made of wood, for crying out loud."

"If only there was someone who could care for it..." Ron muttered, when Neville was struck with inspiration.

"Charlie." Neville turned to the three Weasleys. "Your brother's in Romania studying dragons, isn't he? What are the chances he can care for it?"

"Brilliant!" Fred exclaimed before he frowned. "Though I have no idea how we're gonna smuggle a dragon out. It's not like a doxy or puffskein..."

"I think I can help with that." Harry said, though a look a regret quickly passed his face when everyone looked at him. "But I'm not talking unless your brother says yes."

* * *

The next week crept by slowly. On Thursday, Fred and George rushed into the Common Room waving a letter: Charlie had responded.

_ Dear Ron, _

_ How are you? Thanks for the letter - I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting her here. I think the best thing will be to send her over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon out of the school. _

_ Could you guys get Norberta up the tallest tower? They can meet you there and take her away while it's still dark. _

_ Send me an answer as soon as possible.  _

_ Love, _

_ Charlie _

They exchanged somber looks before looking at Harry. "Now, will you tell us how are you going to get a dragon up to the tower?"

"I've got an invisibility cloak. Family heirloom, my dad will probably flip the whole school hunting for you if you try to steal it." He shot a glance at Fred and George who looked eager. "Large enough to probably cover six or seven of us. We can hide Norberta underneath it and get through the castle undetected...though I'm not sure about the routes."

"Leave that part to us." Fred declared. "We've just got the perfect thing to-"

"Shh!" George frantically hushed his twin. Granger was a few feet away and eerily silent. Neville couldn't help but feel a heavy sense of foreboding when his eyes met hers.

* * *

Granger wasn't the only hiccup on the way. The next morning, Cedric's hand was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "She bit me!" He hissed. "And just my luck it had to be before the match!"

Nearby, Beatrice winced. "That dragon's the worst but the way Hagrid goes on about her, you'd think it was a fluffy bunny rabbit! I was lucky she tried to bite into my robe, though Penny might be interested in Norwegian Ridgeback venom..." 

By all miracles, Cedric managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that a Murtlap had bitten him when he was extracting streeler venom. He looked worried when Madam Pomfrey looked suspicious, but eventually shrugged it off to the Care of Magical Creature Professor Kettleburn's recklessness.

Even that was mediocre compared to the news that Snape would be refereeing the next match; the Weasley twins tripped on their feet when Wood announced it. "When's the slimy git ever refereed a Quidditch match?"

"My mum made him." Harry looked miserable. "After what happened at my Quidditch debut, she got him to make sure that-"

He clamped a hand to his mouth, looking horrified as if he was going to spoil something. 

"Make sure what?" Alicia Spinnet pressed on. Harry looked conflicted before Fred and George took out their wands and suddenly he was hoisted into the air by his ankles. 

"Now, Harrikins, we wouldn't be doing this if we really wanted..."

"...Course, Wood might hex our ears off if you are injured before the match..."

"...But if you don't spill, then we'll take the risk."

"...I overheard Snape talking with my mum about Quirrel was the one who was hexing my broom."

"WHAT?!" Fred's voice was quickly muffled by George. "What?"

"I don't know, I ran back to my dorm before they noticed!" Harry paled. "And I'm not exactly feeling confident about my chances of survival anyway."

Neville himself was silently wondering if that was the last time they'll see Harry as they disappeared to the changing tents. He and Ron sat near Seamus and Dean, whom failed to understand why they looked grim nor their wands in their hands. It wasn't until he took a look at the teacher's stands did he let out a sigh of relief; Quirrel was nowhere in sight. Harry was safe, unless there was some way Quirrel could curse Harry while being out of the vicinity.

"Ouch!" Ron exclaimed when someone had poked him in the back of the head.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley. Didn't see you there." Draco grinned broadly at Blaise and Nott. "It's too bad Longbottom isn't out there. We could make bets on how long he'd stay on his broom!"

"Would you shut it?" Neville hissed.

"Ooh. Hit a nerve, did I?" Malfoy goaded. Blaise snickered while Nott frowned.

"Come _on_ Draco. We have more important things to discuss." Nott hissed.

"You're right. Besides, if they let Longbottom on the field all the other teams would yield to him out of pity." Malfoy chuckled. "I mean, that's the only reason he is a Gryffindor. Fat useless lump that he is. Only let in because he supposedly defeated You-Know-Who as a baby."

"Get bent! Go try to win daddy's approval!" Neville shouted after Malfoy, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

Malfoy and Nott stopped, gaping at him for a moment and then stepping forward. "What did I just hear from your blood traitor mouth, Longbottom?"

"You heard me." Something in Neville snapped as he lunged himself at Malfoy and wrestled him to the ground. Ron clambered over the back of his seat to tackle Crabbe and Goyle, who lunged over when Malfoy ordered them to help.

He vaguely heard something cheering, a few choice words, and then more fists were thrown. There was scuffling around him but his focus was on Malfoy. They rolled around under the seats as their own fists flew at each other's faces. His fist connected to Malfoy's cheek and then Neville got hit on the jaw.

" _Locomotor_ _Morris!"_ Neville's legs locked, rendering him motionless. This wasn't how it was supposed to go!

“Next time you point your wand at me, Longbottom, I’ll throw you off the stands.” He glanced over at Malfoy, who was still on top of him. “Don't pick fights with those that are better than you.”

“You’re not better than me, Malfoy, or anyone else.” Draco took one look before leaving.

"Neville, get up! The game's over! Harry's caught the snitch! They've tied!" Seamus shouted, dancing up and down on his seat and hugged Dean in the row in front. Neville smiled as he attempted to reverse the curse. But even with the party swinging by, there was still one more thing on his mind,

It was the night they had to get Norberta out.

* * *

By the time they arrived at Hagrid's hut it was rather dark out. It was cloudy, which made the night appear ominous, which did not help Neville's nervousness.

Hagrid had been sobbing like a baby when he opened the door. Behind him was a crate that was shaking. "He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey." It was hard to understand with his muffling voice. "An' I've packed her teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded as though the teddy was having its head torn off. 

"Bye-bye, Norberta!" Hagrid sobbed as Harry threw the cloak over the crate and the five of them stepped underneath. "Daddy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, and past Duncan Ashe and Peeves, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another - even with the Weasley Twins' shortcuts it didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor.

"Wait!" Beatrice hissed, pushing them all into the shadows. Neville and Harry quickly climbed up the crate and held both corners as Cedric, Beatrice and the Weasleys pressed against the wall. A light suddenly flared and the six stared at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other. McGonagall appeared before them in a tartan bathrobe and a hairnet with Granger behind her. 

"Professor, I know for a fact that Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter are out of bed!" She was saying. "They've got a dragon from the gamekeeper, Hagrid. They contacted-"

McGonagall cut her off, visibly seething. "How _dare_ you come up with such lies, Miss Granger! I thought you had more sense!" She brought her to her feet by the ear and started to lead her down the corridor, narrowly missing the six who were desperately trying to silence Norberta, only barely covered by Granger's complaints.

"Detention!" She shouted. "And fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"You don't understand Professor! Anytime now!" Granger screeched, loud enough to wake up even the paintings.

"Another fifty! What utter rubbish! Come on - I shall see Professor Dumbledore about you, Granger!"

"No...not him." She whined, before the two vanished. "Please, Professor, just listen!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. "Granger's got detention! I can die happy!" Harry nearly yelled, dancing a jig.

"Don't yet." Beatrice breathed, shutting the door. "We've still got a dragon to smuggle. How's the girl, Cedric?"

"Fine!" Cedric yelped as Norberta thrashed about, her crate shaking vigorously. "She's still alive, I can assure you!" 

About five minutes later, Neville thought he was seeing things before he realised that it was four broomsticks that came swooping down out of the darkness.

"Bea!" One of the riders, a young woman with blue eyes, pale white skin and long blonde hair with two thick braids over her shoulders, and a braid on her left side that formed a half up ponytail embraced Beatrice as she got on her feet.

"Hey, Penny." The Hufflepuff broke into a rare smile. "You're the ones smuggling Norberta?"

"Is that what the dragon's called?" Behind her, a woman with a braided beehive and a green jacket tied around her waist kneeled down to the crate, which gave a rather strong shake before toppling over, sending the dragon tumbling out. "Oooh, a Norwegian Ridgeback! Always wanted one of those."

"Lizard, if you had it your way you'd have to get another house. There are way too many fwoopers and ghouls and...I don't want to list them all" A Korean man with a golden sweater and red boots shook his head and set to examining the crate while Lizard, who Neville wondered if that was a nickname, was cuddling the dragon like it was a puppy. "Yeah, this ought to do."

"What do you know about these creatures?" Lizard retorted. "And I hear you're the one who's been smuggling chimera eggs out of Greece. They're Class A stuff! As if the Protego Foundation hasn't got enough on my arms!"

"And so is our cargo." Jae pointed out the yipping Norberta in her arms.

"Alright, Jae, you do your magic - no pun intended - Liz, let go of Norberta." The final rider was a slender, brown skinned woman with the left side of her head shaved and the right flowing down in waves. "Well done, Circle of Khanna."

"Circle of Khanna?" Neville asked, and the woman turned, their green eyes widening. The other three had surprised looks, while Penny handed Beatrice a galleon.

"Well, I'll be damned." She breathed. "Neville Longbottom."

"Uh...yeah. that's me." He said awkwardly. The woman smiled as they extended a hand.

"Maya Roland." They introduced themselves. "And with me are Jae Kim..." The korean man waved. "...Liz Tuttle, better known as Lizard..." The beehive girl gave a nervous chuckle. "...And my girlfriend Penny Haywood."

"And big sister to Bea here." Now that they were standing together, Neville could see the resemblance between the two. The same golden blonde hair, the same bluish eyes, the same face shape. "How's Hogwarts been with the new celebrity? I remember when Maya arrived there was almost as much spectacle."

"Don't remind me, love." Maya rolled their eyes. "At least these folk haven't been trapped in an ice box."

"Or a portrait." Penny froze for a moment as Beatrice closed her eyes. Neville stared at them in bewilderment. How did someone get trapped in a portrait or ice?

"Another story for another, safer time." Jae said, showing them the harness he'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. 

"You sure this will work?" Cedric asked. 

"Completely safe and dragon friendly." jae shot a questionable glance at Liz, who was helping Norberta in. "So long as the weather doesn't decide to pull a Rakepick on us."

"And it shouldn't." Penny agreed. "How's your third year going, Bea?"

"Swimmingly. Did you know that-"

"Wait." Cedric looked frantic. "Not here. Not in front of them."

"Cedric. I remember a time when a kid tried to hide information and ended up living with another's death. Tell. them."

"Alright! Alright." Cedric quickly apologized while Penny went to sooth Maya's anger. “Have you heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?”

Neville paused and shook his head. Penny on the other hand, looked stunned. "No."

"Yes. Remember about that three headed dog in my letter on October? The Philosopher's Stone is what is hidden under it."

"Uh, can anyone tell us what's this, uh, Sorcerer's Stone?"

"Philosopher's. It's a legendary alchemy substance can turn any metal into pure gold and can be used to brew a potion called the Elixir of Life. So long as it's not contaminated and drunk regularly, you're basically immortal." Penny explained. "It's a dream for a Potioneer like me to even see it."

"We suspect someone is after it, maybe to expose Dumbledore for keeping something unsafe in the school..."

"Or for themselves. I mean, being immortal's wicked." Fred shrugged.

Neville blinked at him incredulously. “And you’re going to do what about it? Why not try going to one of the professors?”

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to realize the true reason. “You don't have proof. No concrete motives other than your own speculation."

"Yup. Professor Sprout thought we were joking." Cedric frowned. "Unless there's an actual attempt, our hands are tied."

"At least you two didn't lose house points." George grimaced. "McGonagall nearly gave us detention."

"Oh, come on. The points aren't that bad." Maya laughed. "I remember when I lost twenty for that duel with Merula, and I carried our House to the House Cup ever since."

"You're a Slytherin?" Harry suddenly looked like he had second thoughts.

"We're not as bad as we sound. We're more about saving our own skins than risking into unknown territory blind." She joked. "Alright, everyone ready? We don't need these six losing their points."

"Oh! That reminds us." Fred took off his shirt to reveal he had strapped what appears to be a toilet seat to his back. "Send Charlie our regards."

"Oh, don't worry, we will." Maya laughed, putting the seat on top of the harness and the four of them lifted off.

"Strange lot, aren't they?" Harry said as they watched as Norberta was taken far away, vanishing into the moonlight. "Never seen anyone so cheery."

"Yeah. Nothing wrong about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that many people have their own versions of [Jacob's SIbling], so let me explain my design choices.
> 
> Character wise, [Jacob's Sibling] in the official launch trailer has Penny mention the first name [Maya], while [Roland] was listed as a name choice unavailable on the Harry Potter Wiki. Their appearance - the pronoun choice is intended - is based on the two versions in both the official trailer and the quidditch trailer. They are a Slytherin, a choice partially bias with my own, but also in the trailers they are seen mostly wearing green robes. Not to mention that for other player-based characters, Slytherin suits them well. Rowan, Skye and Murphy have ambition to become the youngest professor at Hogwarts/follow in her family's footsteps/become the next best Quidditch announcer, while Orion's style is more related to self preserving, another Slytherin trait. In addition, since Slytherin's been the canonical one who has been winning the House Cup before Harry came...


	11. Calms before storms

"...has to be a mistake!"

"Maybe it's broken?"

"How could we have lost _two hundred_ points overnight?"

Neville bit his lip as he shared a look with Harry and the Weasley Twins as they joined the crowd of students standing in front of the giant hourglass that recorded the house points. No one had caught them sneaking Norberta out, did they? That was the only logical reason why the house points were gone.

By lunch, the real culprit was found; everyone had heard about the infamous Hermione Granger losing all of the points because she pissed off her head of house and the headmaster with some far-fetched story that Neville Longbottom was coerced into smuggling a dragon by a couple of third years.

Before, the bossy know-it-all was seen as a joke when news spread of her attempt to fight the Halloween troll; now she was downright hated by everyone except those in Slytherin, who all longed to see the latter lose the house cup. Insults rang out into the corridors from fellow classmates. Some of them tripped her down, ruined her textbooks or shoved her head down the toilet. The Slytherins themselves snickered and clapped their hands, calling out, "Thanks, Mudblood! We owe you one!"

"It'll blow over." Fred shrugged when Neville confided to the twins if they ought to owe up. "Me and George have lost loads of points and people still love us."

"Not two hundred in one go, though, have you?" 

"Well - no." George admitted, although he looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, we might have a new goal next year..."

Granger threw herself into her schoolwork and shrank away from answering questions in class unless asked. She worked way past midnight trying to remember complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and golden rebellions like she had never studied before.

Neville saw her every now and again glancing over his shoulder, looking furious. Her skin had paled enough that the dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises; if looks could kill then hers could be enough to make the whole school extinct. Neville was conflicted between his guilt about her situation and his inability to help her without losing even more house points. Not to mention, the students were content with ignoring her entirely, and he received an unexpected popularity boost from those who 'protected' him from Granger. "It's not right, mate." They said. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived."

It didn't help that it had become sweltering hot outside. Harry, Neville and Ron sat by the lake as they feverishly tried to study for their final exams, though they were continuously distracted by the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan's antics. One day they were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, who was basking in the warm shallows. Neville sat by a tree with his books laid out in front of him, watching as Harry and Ron joined the trio.

" _Something troubles you."_ Came a nearby hiss. Neville turned his head and saw a snake slithering beside him and quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching.

"Sort of." He petted the snake before tentatively touching his scar.

 _"Hmm."_ The snake slithered into his lap, curled up his torso, and onto his neck to get a better look. _"Curious. Curious Indeed."_

"I'm not sure why it hurts..." Neville sighed. "But sometimes, when it does, I get this feeling that I'm in danger."

 _"Survival is instinct. Always go with it."_ The snake slithered down his torso and back onto the grass. _"_ _Can you feel the vileness rising from the dirt and stalking through the trees?_ _"_

A week and a half before their exams, a surging pain awoke Neville from his slumber. He was panting and sweating profusely. The agony in his forehead burned like it was on fire. He held onto it for several moments and then the pain dissipated as quickly as it came. The onset was just as sudden as it had been in the beginning of the year but this time it was far more intense. It became a nightly occurrence. 

_Can you feel the vileness rising in the dirt and stalking through the trees?_ The snake's words echoed in his mind, and it seemed more cryptic.

* * *

Neville never did find out what the snake's words meant, as the exams had arrived. From making pineapples tap dance on Professor Flitwick's desk to brewing forgetfulness potion from memory (Neville could swear that Snape was actually snickering behind their backs, judging from his expression) to turning mice into snuff boxes, where Ron turned his rat into a snuff box that ran up McGonagall's dress and caused a mild disturbance. 

"Watch your step, Longbottom." Draco sneered. "Wouldn't want the Boy-Who-Lived to go back looking for his grannie, am I right?"

"Take that back."

"You know...I've been meaning to test this curse out, got to make sure I could do it properly before the exam tomorrow." With a flick of his wand and a cry of 'Mucus ad Nauseam', Neville fell to the ground, his knees weak while his nose was leaking snot. "Guess that mumbling fool wasn't that bad." Draco laughed, leaving a very sick Neville behind.

* * *

Harry found Neville in the bathroom, and they immediately sought out Professor Quirrel and Madam Pomfrey. The former was incredibly nerve racked for some reason, and soon the duo had reason to mimic Quirrel's behavior when they tried to return: The Fat Lady had left her frame and wandered off somewhere else in the castle sometime during the night, trapping them all outside. There was no way to get back inside the tower now, without her there to open the entrance for them. 

"Well, there's no way we can get back into the tower." Harry shrugged, throwing on his cloak. "Wanna join me for a stroll?"

"To where?" Neville asked, still bewildered and now worried. "If we get too far-"

"It;s not that far. Just the trophy room." Before Neville could protest, he had tossed his cloak of invisibility and practically dragged him off.

The trophy Room was only the third door down the left corridor and was, to Draco’s surprise, unlocked. The walls were lined with crystal display cases, their polished surfaces glinting in the silver moonlight falling in through the few windows the room had. Centuries worth of cups, plaques, shields, swords, statues and other awards stood on the shelves and the few pillars standing around in the middle of the floor. The trophies themselves seemed to shine in the light, some of the cups looked as if they had a glowing potion in them, even though they were empty, due to the way the light was reflecting off of them. 

A small little plaque that stood in a case directly next to the room’s wooden door caught Neville’s eye as he followed Harry walked into the room. It was made of glinting silver and was in the shape of a shield about the size of his palm. "Whoa." Neville reached out and touched the plaque. "Your parents - they're -"

"Head Boy & Girl." Harry nodded. "It's just sometimes so overwhelming. I mean, Dad was over the moon when I joined the Quidditch team, Mum was happy my grades were excellent, but there's still so much they have achieved, you know?"

Neville thought back to the day when Harry's parents had came to see him; after the match, Potter Sr. had Harry in his arms shouting to everyone about his pride of being Harry's dad. He did remember from an article during Christmas of James Potter's auror investigation during the theft in Gringotts, so maybe that was it?

"You're not them, you know?" Neville got down. "They didn't have parents who were tortured-"

"It's not that they were tortured." Harry interrupted. "It's who I had to stay with when they healed."

"Your aunt and uncle?" Neville remembered back during the Feast that Harry mentioned they hated magic. "Surely they can't be that bad?" 

"They-" They froze in place just seconds later when the door swung open and Peeves, the school’s residential Poltergeist, flew out. This wasn’t going to end well, they weren’t any less screwed now than they were before, Neville realized, when Peeves let out a high-pitched, excited giggle at the sight of them. "Strolling around the castle at Midnight, the little first-years, hmm? Tsk, tsk. Not very good, you’ll get caught.” He cackled again, the sound sending small shivers down Neville’s spine.

“Not if you don’t tell on us we won’t, Peeves.” Harry took a small step forward as if this would make the Poltergeist feel threatened, who instead cackled in amusement at the desperate tone his voice had. 

“I should really tell Filch, yes, I should.” Peeves drawled, a slightly quizzical expression on his face as if he were trying to decide what to do with the lot of them. “It’s just what’s best for you, you have to know.”

“Run!” Harry yelled as Peeves began screaming at the top of his lungs: “STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED HERE IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

The two of them bolted out of the trophy room and through the corridor, before skidding to a stop as a lantern came at the end of the corridor while Filch's voice echoed in the near empty hallway. "Let's see what's Peeves' going on about..."

"What do we do?!" Neville said, before he and Harry ran into something soft.

"What the?" He immediately recognized the gruff, deep voice of Hagrid and was relieved with the glimmer of hope. Surely Hagrid wouldn't turn a blind eye, would he?

"Hello 'arry. Hello, Neville." Hagrid replied fondly as he came up in front of him, surprisingly followed by Cedric and Beatrice. "What brings ya out this late at night? Not an extra long detention I hope?"

"Look, there's no time to explain." Neville said breathlessly. Yet before he could get out another word, Filch finally caught up with them. "Ah hah!" He crowed in triumph, probably imagining just what kinds of punishments he could deliver. "Students out of bed!"

Hagrid looked over at them again, and slowly put two and two together, realizing they did not in fact have permission to be out this late. "Now wait just a minute," Hagrid interrupted. "These four are serving detention with me."

"Doing what exactly?" Filch asked disbelievingly.

"Helping Hagrid feed the animals." Cedric answered, gesturing to the large tub of raw meat in his arms, something which in all the excitement Neville had failed to notice.

"Is that so?" Filch questioned. Neville gulped as Filch didn't seem like giving up so easily, but Beatrice took advantage of his hesitancy and asked Hagrid. "Weren't we going to go feed Fluffy?"

"Right ya are." Hagrid nodded. "Well I guess we'd better get on over there."

They left a very disappointed Filch behind, setting off to wherever this creature called 'Fluffy' was located. When they got out of earshot of Filch, Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, that was a close one."

"You wanna tell us just why you're out so late and why we had to lie to Filch?" Beatrice interrupted. "We ought to have turned you in."

"Malfoy caught Neville with the Curse of the Bogies, took awhile to find Professor Quirrel." Harry explained. "The Fat Lady was gone anyway, we couldn't get back."

Hagrid seemed to absorb this for a second, before replying. "Well I'm not gonna to turn yeh in, but I'm also going to make yer finish the detention that yer supposedly doin', yer going to go help us finish feeding the animals, starting with Fluffy."

"I thought your dog's name was Fang?"

Cedric grinned. "Oh not that dog Harry, I think you know the one, Fred and George mentioned it to you."

Harry blanched as Neville realized just what dog Cedric was referring to. "Fluffy?!"

"Yeah - he's mine - fought off a Greek crappie n' Irish feller to get 'im las' year - ended up paying fer more than it's worth -"

"Hang on, why are _you two_ in detention?" Harry asked suspiciously. Both Hufflepuffs looked sheepish.

"We confessed to Sprout. She didn't take any house points but we got a month's detention with Hagrid in return." Cedric explained. "To be honest, I was nervous if she was going to tell my dad, I'd hate to disappoint him. At least I can pass it off to my dormmates that I'm taking a few extra CoMC lessons."

"Tis' alright. Sprout told me later s' long as I don't go gamblin' dragon eggs again she's willin' to forget everything." Hagrid admitted. "Well, here we are." 

Hagrid was about to unlock the door with a key that he produced from one of his huge pockets, yet found that the door was already open. "What the...?" Hagrid wondered out loud. "This shouldn't be unlocked."

His surprise turned to outright alarm however when he opened the door to find a sleeping Fluffy, who was laying down next to a self playing harp. "This is not good!" 

"What's wrong?" Neville asked.

"Somebody figured out how ter make Fluffy fall asleep." Hagrid admitted, "They're probably already down the trap door."

"Then let's follow them and stop them." Harry suggested.

Hagrid glanced at the trap door. "I don't think I would fit through tha'."

"Then we'll go down there ourselves." Harry answered, and before Hagrid could stop him, he opened up the trap door and jumped down it, vanishing into the darkness.

"Blast that boy!" Hagrid roared, realizing his size prevented him from following after him, all the while attempting to rip open a wider gap to no avail. 

"Harry?! Harry!" Cedric got to his knees and struck his head and arm in. "Accio!"

The Summoning Spell either was out of range or failed to work, seeing that Harry had not reappeared. "What do we do?"

"Cedric, Beatrice, go find someone - Sprout, McGonagall, Dumbledore! I'll head down and try to get him back up." Neville sighed before he looked down at the hole. It was pitch black and seemingly bottomless. 

"Are you sure?" Beatrice aske worriedly. "What if we don't get back in time?"

"Then it's a risk we have to take." Even Hagrid seemed to realize that at this moment, this was the best idea, as he bellowed for them to move while he headed towards the harp. Neville took one last look at the running duo before letting go of the hatch. 

Cold, damp air rushed past him as Neville dropped from the trapdoor and into the abyss. He couldn't see Harry nor could he sense an end to the pit they sprung into. Just when he thought he was trapped in an endless loop of emptiness he hit something soft beneath him.

He sat up and glanced about, at first not seeing anything in the gloom. He felt around, recognizing the feel of a plant beneath his fingertips. "Harry? Where are you?"

"Glad to see you made it." Harry's voice murmured in this dark. "I think this is some sort of plant, you're the herbology expert, how'd we get out of it?" 

Neville tried to move but soon realized that the plant was twisting itself around his torso, its snakelike tendrils trapping him in its grasp, tightening as he moved. That was when it hit him.

"Devil's Snare! We need something warm and bright!" He called out. And yet as the tendrils wrapped around his throat, there was a huge bright white light shining in his face, emanating from a wand, yet when he saw who was on the other end of the wand, his eyes rose in alarm.

"Nobody move or I'll be forced to kill you." Quirrell told them, directing his wand from one of them to the other. "Now step away from the plant slowly." 

Each of them did so, slowly moving forward. "How did you find me?"

"We saw the harp playing by itself and put two and two together." Harry finally answered.

"Do Dumbledore or any teachers know that you're here?" Quirrell asked.

"No." Harry answered truthfully, even if it wasn't really what Quirrell wanted to know, Hagrid technically was not a teacher, and he didn't know if the others had found anyone yet.

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief, yet his expression looked pained. "I'm really sorry to do this; it's nothing personal, but I can't have you following me or warning anyone else."

Both Harry and Neville raised their wands as he said this, at Neville realized that they were at a standoff, should he try to even target one of them, he would get hit by the other one. Slowly he backed away, while Neville and Harry both kept their wands up, unsure of what Quirrel would do.

Unfortunately it was at that time Quirrell leaped behind a stone outcropping, temporarily obscuring their ability to hit him and that was when Quirrell took advantage, firing a spell directly at the ceiling in an attempt to cave the corridor in.

As Harry swept the corridor for an escape route, Neville felt something pull at him before he was lifted off his feet and into Quirrell's grip. "No!" Harry screamed, watching as his friend was now trapped behind rumble. The Devil's snare was immediately covered by stone, along with the side where Quirrell was, while Harry was trapped within.

"Neville!" Harry screamed, before something erupted out of him, causing the debris to slow down and lodged itself all around them, forming a little bubble.

'Am I going to die?' Harry wondered in fear, still not yet over the ordeal with Quirrell. The avalanche of rocks seemed to finally stop, and he opened his eyes to see the black, oleaginous cloud surrounding him, crumbling the few rocks that were dropping onto him into smaller, though still painful, pieces.

'Okay, well, that's not going to work.' Harry thought. 'Any other ideas?'

Yet as he tried, it was clear there weren't. The rocks were bundled together in such a way that could collapse any second especially if any help that arrived tried to move it, and its small size meant that had a limited air supply, and Quirrell would be getting away with the stone.

'It's hopeless.' He realised as reality hit him. 'And its all my fault, if I hadn't tried to be the hero we wouldn't be in this mess.'

He genuine hoped Cedric and Beatrice could find help in time. 

* * *

The two hufflepuffs rushed back to the corridors, running past students and ghosts. Cedric hoped they could find a teacher in time. 

"What are you doing inside?" She questioned.

"Professor, we need to speak to you urgently. And Professor Dumbledore if possible." Cedric bravely stated. "It’s very important."

Professor Sprout looked surprised. “I’m afraid the Headmaster is not here. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic this morning and has had to go to London immediately.”

"He's _gone_?" Beatrice gasped. " **Crap!** "

"I'm certain you're aware that Professor Dumbledore is-"

"It's about the Philosopher's Stone!" Beatrice breathed while Cedric nodded frantically. "Professor, someone is trying to steal it!" 

"You're not one to lie Miss Haywood and Mr. Diggory, but are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes!" They both said in unison. "There is no time! The third floor corridor, the door's unlocked and the dog's asleep! Please check professor!" They quickly said.

"I'll grab the other head of houses quickly and check it. Follow me." And with that she briskly gathered Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Snape and informed them of their warning.

"Miss Haywood, Mr. Diggory, I do not know how you came across that information." McGonagall frowned. "It is perfectly well protected and no one could possibly steal it even if they tried."

"Then we better make sure they aren't seeing things." Snape curtly smirked. McGonagall reluctantly agreed and they set off, where she saw Hagrid trying to stop the harp from playing.

"Professors! Harry n' Neville are down there!" He said frantically. "An' I can't stop this damn thing!"

McGonagall paled before she raised her arm, retransfiguring the harp to its original pebble. "You don't think..."

"Let's not make assumptions yet." Sprout said nervously, before they all descended through the trapdoor, and were taken aback by the sheer amount of rumble that greeted them, followed soon by a violent rocking of something ash-like that took up the air. 

"Is that...?" Alarms rang in Snape's mind, and he cautioned everyone behind him, watching in simultaneous horror and fascination as the smoke settled back into the form of a sobbing Harry Potter. "Harry, what happened?"

"P-professor Quirrell - he was pointing his wand at us, he caved in the corridor and to-to-took Neville with him." Harry sobbed. "And it's all m-my fault, if I didn't...jump down first, he wouldn't had - have taken Neville, and now what -whatever is in the corridor is going to be stolen."

"Harry, stop crying. Thank you for telling us. Nothing here is your fault." Snape got down and looked at Harry. "He is a much more dangerous wizard than what a first year can confront. Pomona, bring Mr. Potter to the Hospital Wing and find Albus, go!" Sprout nodded before she escorted Harry back up the trapdoor.

When they got there though, the flying keys enchanted by Flitwick had been thrown on the floor; the Chess Set McGonagall transfigured had been demolished as though a large hand swept the board aside, with the pieces cracked and broken; Quirrell's troll was dead, and Snape's potions that would lead them through were drained and smashed. Even worse, there was the sound of screaming through the wall of fire.

"Well then." McGonagall collected herself as Snape distributed his spare vials of potion. "Flitwick, let us get ready to confirm his fears."


	12. Quirrelmort

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!"

They all gasped at what we saw. Quirrel had Neville in thick ropes, while his hands had turned to crumbling stone. Neville, on the other hand, looked as if his head was going to split apart.

"I knew this would happen!" snarled Snape. Quirrel stopped in his interrogation as he turned towards the three heads of house.

"So you've figured me out. Caught red handed. I'm so sorry for-" He spoke without a single stutter before abruptly shooting out a killing curse at Flitwick. He manages to dodge just in time before returning the blow while Snape summoned Longbottom from his grasp and tried to vanish the ropes.

"Why Quirinus?" McGonagall panted as she launched a body-blind that was deflected.

"My master needs the stone!" He yell in desperation, much to Neville's confusion. "After you had the rudding giant intercept me before I could get to the corridor, _he_ never left me alone, never trusted me again. _He_ told me to use the boy, but I still haven't gotten the stone!"

'Let me speak to them...' A raspy voice echoed in his head, and Neville looked around the otherwise empty room, noticing that the Professors seemed to have heard it as well. Who did that voice belong to? _Who was speaking?_

"Master, you're not-" Quirrel began worryingly before he seized, obviously in pain. Hesitantly, Quirrell then stood in front of the mirror and started to unwrap his turban. Neville watched as the layers were removed and the teachers all gasped in horror. Neville opened his mouth to scream but he could not make a sound. In his reflection where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a horrifying, disfigured face. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. 

'Severus...are you faithful?' It asked. Snape paled before he dropped to his knees.

"Yes...my lord." He said, ignoring Neville's gasp. He knew from Harry that Snape was a Death Eater, but he never thought that he would still be loyal after so long.

'Then kill them!' Snape looked at the other Professors and raised his wand, though Neville thought he saw him give them something of a nod.

All of a sudden, the flames are doused and Albus Dumbledore arrived, looking out of breath, followed by Mad-Eye Moody, the latter who immediately took one look at the situation and brandished his wand, the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that Neville felt his hair stand on end as it passed and flung Quirrel headfirst into the wall while Severus was put in a body-blind. "Dumbledore...!"

"Good evening, Tom." Dumbledore panted. "It seems times are rough when you have to share an innocent man's body."

'Do you really think...I seek to defeat you...in this fool's body?' Voldemort's voice laughed while Quirrel began to choke as he fell to his knees. Dumbledore looked sad as Quirrel's mouth moved as if to apologize, before a column of smoke erupted from the demolishing body and charged at Neville, pushing him headfirst into the steps and knocked him out.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as the specter laughed as it passed through the walls, before turning his attention back to Neville. "Minerva, Severus, get Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing...!"

* * *

Neville awoke in bed and his eyes slowly swam into focus. For a moment he wondered where he was, then slowly the memory of his encounter with Quirrell returned. He shuddered, sat up in bed and looked around. He was in the hospital wing and currently alone. There were bandages on his head and arm. A stack of “Get Well Soon” cards were arranged on the table beside his bed next to an assortment of sweets, chocolates and the obligatory bunch of grapes.  
  
Neville was about to pick up the cards to see who they were from when a head poked round the door of the ward. It belonged to none other than Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster smiled, entered the room and walked up to Neville’s bed. “Awake at last,” he said breezily. “How are you feeling?”

"A bit groggy," admitted Neville. "It's all a bit of a blur. What happened to Professor Quirrell and You-Know-Who?"  
  
"Voldemort, Neville. It is his name now and one should always name things properly. It is not easy, but one day I hope you will understand and speak it." Dumbledore sighed. "It is my regret and sad duty to inform you that Professor Quirrell is dead. Such a young man. A tragic and terrible loss to us all."  
  
Neville was puzzled. "But he was evil. He told me everything, how he let in the troll, how he tried to kill Harry, how he worked for You-Know-Who and tried to get the Stone."  
  
"Evil is a strong word, Neville, and should be used most carefully. No, I do grieve for the loss of Quirinus Quirrell and what he might have been. Before he encountered Voldemort on his travels he was a good man, if somewhat shy and ineffectual, the sort that never attracted much attention. Not unlike yourself, Neville, if you will excuse me for saying so."

"Sir, when I touched Professor Quirrell, I - I _burnt_ him. Why?"

"And that is an interesting question. One I believe your grandmother has doubts about, and never told you. You see, the protection that your parents have left you has made Voldemort unable to touch you. That is what saved you. When your parents died protecting you, that protection endured within you, within your very skin, your very blood, something which Voldemort - and by extension Quirrell - could not bear to encounter."

"Sir, the mirror...when Professor Quirrel looked at it, he said he could see himself presenting the stone to Yo - voldemort. When he told me to get the stone, all I could see is my gran." Neville continued. "She looked proud of me. And my scar was gone. There were other people who were, uh, walking around, congratulating me as well. What does it mean?"

"Well, Neville, that particular mirror is known as the Mirror of Erised. The happiest person on earth would be able to use it to see themselves. Do you think you can figure out what does it show?" 

"It shows...what we want?" Neville replied. 

"Almost. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, desperate desire of our hearts. You have been living underneath your parent's shadow by your grandmother because of your scar, so you see her being proud of a normal you. Quirinus Quirrell sees himself presenting the stone to Voldemort because he wishes to be free of his enslavement. Hermione Granger sees herself as a prefect and Head Girl, surrounded by Professors because she wishes to be the best in Hogwarts." 

"...I don't understand it, Professor. It seems just so simple, so...normal. Shouldn't my desire be something bigger? Or is there something I'm missing?"

"Perhaps, Neville, perhaps. No, I do not think your desire is small. Indeed I think it is the biggest thing anyone can desire."  
  
"What is it?"

"Love, Neville. Just love. The love of friends, or of a close family, or the appreciation of your peers. You see Neville, I think you have always looked down on yourself, felt yourself weak or unworthy, and indeed unloved." He smiled at Neville's surprised look. "Although you try to hide away from others, you are well aware that people notice you, that they know who you are, that they even look up to you or appear as if they like you on account of your history. I think it is an admirable thing that you want others to appreciate you for yourself and not that scar. Few people can truly say that; you have nothing to worry about, Neville."

"Professor, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"...I see myself with my family and an old lover. We split up after a large fight that tore my family apart. He dabbled in the Dark Arts so long, it tore his soul apart. I lost the man I loved that day."

Neville was silent for a moment, trying to take it all in, when he realised something important. "Harry! Professor, Harry-"

"-Was just discharged long before you awoke. Madam Pomfrey has - under the insistence of Harry's parents - made sure that he has not suffered from anything majorly harmful." Dumbledore looked regretful for the briefest of moments. "Another scar left from the war."

"Professor?" Neville asked, but Dumbledore seemed to not have heard him.

"Forgive an old man's thoughts. If I may mention as well, your reputation has certainly grown among your fellow students these past few days. I have long since given up trying to keep any of the comings and goings in this school secret, so what happened between you and Professor Quirrel has been whispered around the campus; I'll have to write a letter to Augusta later. Do you have any further questions, Neville?”  
  
Neville thought. “What happens now? Is the stone...?” 

"When Nicolas entrusted me with the stone, he made sure that he and his wife had enough elixir to settle their affairs." He put a hand on Neville's shoulder. "Do not worry, for them, it will be like going to bed after a very long day. And do not fear death, for it is life's next adventure."

"And they're willing to do that? Just...die?"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled once more. “Life goes on, Neville. Enjoy it as you can.” With that, he bowed politely, and left.

* * *

Just a few hours later, Neville was discharged from the hospital wing and made his way up alone to Gryffindor Tower. He slunk in past the Fat Lady’s portrait, expecting to quietly head up to his room. But as he entered the common room, he found it packed with people. They all turned to watch him walk in. Then the cheering begun; everyone had joined in the applause. The Weasley twins came forward and hoisted Neville on their shoulders and cheered him through the room.

That evening was the official end-of-year feast. The atmosphere was a little subdued on Neville’s table as Gryffindor missed out on the House Cup, finishing second, barely above Hufflepuff. Fortunately, they had managed to snag the Quidditch Cup, with a mere ten point difference. 

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were...you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts..."

“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Gryffindor, with four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Neville could see Draco banging his goblet on the table with excitement and pride.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, before I award the Cup, as you all might have heard, Professor Quirrell was trying to steal something important from the school and a few students accepted the trials of following his footsteps and managed to thwart his efforts. In light of this; I have a few last-minute points to dish out.”

"To Mr Cedric Diggory and Miss Beatrice Haywood, for loyalty and courageous self-sacrifice for others' sake, forty points each to Hufflepuff.” Cedric and Beatrice were almost bearhugged while the Gryffindors groaned, having fallen to third place, Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued.

“To Mr. Harry Potter, for his moral caliber in the face of danger, forty points.” 

Those points had returned them into second place, only a couple of points behind Slytherin. “Finally,” said Dumbledore, “to Mr Neville Longbottom, for courage and bravery exemplary of his House, sixty points.” The Gryffindor table erupted and Neville was buried in the celebrations. The cheering went on for a very long time, even after the feast and long in the Common Room.

Neville almost forgot about the exam results until they arrived. To his relief, his Herbology scores more than made up for his Potions ones. Granger had the best marks in their year, of course, followed by Parvati's sister Padma, a hufflepuff called Ernie, Draco, and surprisingly Harry. Ron had barely managed to escape being among the bottom five, to his dismay; Neville overheard him lament that even Crabbe and Goyle, who was almost as stupid as they was mean, had passed as well. "I was hoping they'll be kicked out." 

“You can’t have everything in life.” He replied sadly, ignoring Granger's proud bragging.

Soon it was time for them to leave. Their wardrobes were emptied and their trunks were packed. Notes were passed out to all of the students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays (Fred lamented his hope that those would be forgotten); and readied themselves to say goodbye to the school for the summer. 

As the Hogwarts Express began leaving the station to take them home, Harry found him in his compartment. "You can visit me over the summer." He said, handing over a note with an address scribbled on it. "I'm sure mum and dad won't mind having the Boy-Who-Lived over."

"Doubt my Gran will allow it." Neville said worriedly.

"Not if my mum will have anything to say." Harry chuckled, before sitting down. "Kinda feels odd going back to normal for the summer."  
  
“I don’t think things will ever be normal for me,” said Neville miserably.

"So? What's wrong with being weird?" Harry smiled and watched as Hogsmeade Station faded out of view behind them like the end of a dream.


End file.
